Chuck versus the Paranoia
by KuryakinGirl
Summary: Casey takes on his most daunting cover yet when he has to protect Ellie from a potential threat because of her relation to the Intersect. Canon pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to Josh Schwartz and Chris Fedak. No copyright infringement intended. Any similarity to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Author's Notes: I've always loved spies and the ones on Chuck are certainly no exception. Hopefully I can do "mission-fic" justice. Special thanks to Iguana, for dissecting the episodes with me!

Spoilers: General spoilers through season 3. This story has the potential to be canon up to and through Chuck versus First Class at least.

Chuck versus the Paranoia: Casey takes on his most daunting cover yet when he has to protect Ellie from a potential threat because of her relation to the Intersect. Canon pairings.

* * *

It wasn't the usual merchandise he moved, but the elderly woman had found him, way over in appliances, and asked him for help. He would've loved to have passed her off on to someone else, someone who normally worked in the entertainment section of the store. As it was, he didn't know much about the PlayStation 3. He was certain, however, that the grandmother didn't think it was a good investment for her grandson, but she couldn't be sure.

John Casey was many things but he was not particularly patient when it came to indecisive people, either in his chosen career or his cover job.

He was a highly-trained agent with the National Security Agency, recently promoted to Colonel. The very last thing he wanted to do was try to convince Granny Miser that she needed to shell out several hundred dollars so another kid could have arthritis in his thumbs someday.

"I just don't understand why it's so expensive. I mean, all it does is play games, right?"

Since Casey's cover was as a salesman at the Burbank Buy More, that meant he needed to make a sale. "Ma'am, this isn't a deck of cards where you can play pinochle and bridge. This is a highly sophisticated piece of machinery that took computer programmers and developers years to create and perfect."

"But..." She huffed a sigh, shaking her head.

"I think the most important question you need to ask is: will it make your grandson happy?" Casey said as his watch began to beep. He quickly punched a button on the side, stopping the sound. "I'll let you think about that," he said. "Excuse me." He quickly ducked into the Home Theater Room. After closing the curtains on the big picture windows, he cracked open the hidden hatch beneath the couch and made his way down to the Castle.

Castle was the CIA-funded headquarters of his current assignment, protecting the ultimate walking, talking intelligence computer, Chuck Bartowski. He took the metal stairs two and three at a time, spotting his partner, CIA Agent Sarah Walker already standing in front of the large flat-screen where General Diane Beckman appeared by secured teleconference.

"Colonel, nice of you to join us." The General looked at Casey over the tops of her glasses.

"Came as soon as I got the red alert," Casey said. "What's going on?"

Sarah handed him a file folder.

"We just intercepted and decoded an encrypted message," began Beckman as Casey flipped through the file. "Seems someone has determined that Special Agent Charles 'Carmichael' has a sister, a doctor, Eleanor Faye Woodcomb, and that she is scheduled to attend the Central Coast Medical Conference this week in San Francisco."

"Who is it? And how'd they put Chuck's alias with Ellie?" Casey asked, glancing up at the screen.

"Those are two very good questions. Agent Walker will be determining those answers from L.A. In the meantime, Colonel, I need you on a plane in twenty minutes."

Casey frowned. "General?"

"You're going to San Francisco."

"The medical conference?"

Beckman nodded. "To protect the Intersect's sister. You'll be going in as a military doctor."

"I'm sorry, General, but, with all due respect, how exactly is that supposed to work? I've lived across the courtyard from Bartowski's sister for almost three years now. She's going to recognize me."

"Miraculously, Colonel, you seem to have a twin brother." The General hit a few keystrokes on her computer, and a profile and dossier on Major Lucas Casey, MD, came up on another flat-screen within Castle. "Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds younger than John Casey, Luke Casey is divorced, with a son, and has served as a Marine medic on the front lines."

Casey, who'd never shied away from even the strangest covers before, was having a hard time swallowing that he was about to become his own brother. "I haven't been to med school. I open my mouth, they're going to know I'm not one of them."

"Good thing you're a spy, then, isn't it, Colonel?" asked Beckman.

Sarah glanced at Casey, an odd mix of concern and worry crossing her face. She couldn't imagine trying to be her own twin sister in front of Chuck. The whole idea made her head hurt.

"Your luggage and cover documents are with the plane," Beckman told him.

Casey exhaled. "Yes, ma'am."

"One thing, Colonel Casey, Agent Walker... given the nature of our new Intersect, as well as our… previous association... with Dr. Devon Woodcomb, the information disseminated in this briefing goes no further than this room. I do not, under any circumstances, want either of them knowing that there is a potential threat against Eleanor. Is that understood?"

Casey and Sarah answered at the same time: "Yes, ma'am."

"Get going," Beckman said before turning off her secured feed.

Casey grunted. It was low, guttural, and somewhat depressed.

"Good luck," Sarah said gently.

"You, too. I think your job may be harder this round," he said, handing her back the file.

"How's that?" Sarah asked, watching as Casey made his ascent back to the Buy More.

"You have to look at Chuck with a straight face and tell him everything's fine for the next four days."

Sarah hadn't thought about that yet. She let out a slow breath.

As Casey eased his way back to the Buy More, he glanced around. The grandmother he'd been trying to sell to earlier seemed to be nowhere in sight. He cast a wary glance at the Nerd Herd desk, where Chuck chatted up a customer while working on a laptop. With any luck at all, Casey would be able to get past the pocket-protector-wearing Intersect without his noticing.

He knew the manager, Big Mike, had already left for the day, which meant he'd have to talk to the assistant manager, Morgan Grimes. He found the bearded, short salesman in his tie and vest talking with a customer by the stereos.

He cleared his throat until Morgan glanced over at him. The assistant manager held up a hand, to indicate he'd need just a moment. Casey faked a hacking, nasty sounding cough.

Morgan looked at Casey curiously, but quickly finished up with his customer, who was headed towards the front to check out. "You okay, there, big guy?" Morgan asked.

"I'm going to need some time off," he said. "Sick."

Morgan nodded. "You certainly sound it."

"Think it's that H1N1," he said, coughing again.

Morgan's eyes grew large. "By all means," he said, "get outta here. And don't come back for at least a week. We want to make sure that bug is dead and gone, right?"

Casey inclined his head slightly and left without so much as another word, or another sideways glance at Chuck. The Intersect was Sarah's responsibility now. He had another Bartowski to watch over.

Morgan, however, made a beeline for the Nerd Herd desk, not stopping until he found the hand sanitizer, pumping a handful of the clear liquid into his palms and rubbing them vigorously. Chuck glanced over at him, then followed Morgan's eyes towards the front door, where he saw Casey's familiar form leaving.

"What's up, buddy?" Chuck asked casually.

"We've been invaded," Morgan said, pumping another handful once the first one was rubbed in.

"Invaded?" Chuck asked, alarmed.

"Swine flu," Morgan explained.

As soon as the words had left Morgan's mouth, Jeff and Lester, who were busy standing and doing nothing on the other side of the desk, both dove for the hand sanitizer. It was Lester who came up with it first, rubbing the germ-killing liquid not only into his hands but up his arms as well.

Jeff moved to uncap the bottle and take a swig.

"Pretty sure that's not actually edible," Chuck said, removing it from Jeff's hands quickly.

"They just want you to think that," Jeff said. "It's subliminal messaging. Like encryption. They say don't drink it, means drink it."

"That seems really kinda sketchy to me, pal," Chuck said, screwing the lid back on the bottle.

"It's a government conspiracy, Charles," Lester said, jumping into the conversation. "Swine flu? Who'd ever heard of swine flu before now?"

"It's been around, actually, the news said--" Chuck tried to explain before he was cut off.

"It's germ warfare," Jeff said, shaking his head.

Chuck wondered what Jeff and Lester had to be smoking on the off hours to come up with such insane theories. "Uh, yeah, okay, let's say I believe you... why on earth would our government want to kill, y'know, small children and old people?"

"Population control," Lester answered easily.

"It's like fluoride in the water," Jeff added. "Like the grassy knoll shooter, like the video cameras outside the women's bathroom at Large Mart. It's Big Brother, out to get you, man."

Morgan and Chuck exchanged glances.

"Well, I'm going to take my break real fast, if that's okay," Chuck said, glancing at Morgan, who shrugged. "You guys... don't drink the sanitizer, okay?" he said before sliding over the top of the desk and heading out into the sunshine.

As soon as Chuck left the store, Lester and Jeff took up posts on either side of Morgan.

"You need to be careful," Lester said, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"I de-germed, I think I'm good."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Lester said. "I'm talking about your... friend," he said, using air quotes, "Charles I. Bartowski."

Morgan frowned. "Chuck's the greatest friend."

"Not if he's going over the wall," Jeff said, shaking his head. "Not if his loyalties lie with the infected John... I don't know his middle initial... Casey."

Lester shook his head. "I hate assholes whose loyalties are for sale."

* * *

She rubbed at the back of her neck as traffic came to a grinding halt. She knew she should've left earlier, but Devon had insisted a quick brunch wouldn't have put her so far behind schedule. Perhaps everyone had stopped for a speedy meal with their spouse before hitting the road. Ellie hated being stuck. She hated road trips by herself. She hated that she was about to be in a hotel by herself for four days, in a city she didn't know, surrounded by people she didn't know.

She inhaled slowly, counted to three, then exhaled. It was just four days. It wasn't a completely foreign place, it was only a couple hours up the coast. It wouldn't be as bad as she feared.

She hoped.

She glanced at the clock on her dashboard, watching as the minutes ticked by and she was stuck in the parking lot that was Interstate 5. At this rate, she was definitely going to miss early registration but she might make it on time for the dinner.

She didn't mind the actual participating in the conference, learning new techniques, listening to the latest advancements. She just minded the distance. She'd rather sleep in her own bed at night, not in a hotel room.

She tried to look at the bright side. It would be rather nice to be away from the actual treating of patients for a few days. Something different, if only for a little while. But, it had the potential to be lonely. No Devon. No Chuck or Sarah. No random Buy More employees dropping by for dinner, announced or unannounced. No left-over Orange Orange yogurt at the end of the day, at least till next week.

She turned up the volume on the radio as the traffic report came in.

"There's quite an accident just south of San Fran, on the I-5, both north- and south-bound lanes are affected. Emergency crews are on site, but it'll be a while before either side start moving. Best try to hop off at your nearest exit and find alternate routes in."

"Peachy," she murmured. She punched the detour button on the GPS mounted on her dash.

* * *

Chuck slowed his gait as he saw the familiar black Ford Crown Victoria pull away from the Buy More. He sighed. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

He crossed the parking lot at the mall, moving quickly towards the Orange Orange yogurt shop. The dining room was empty, as usual. The blonde clerk scrubbing the counter looked up and smiled as he entered.

"Hey, Chuck."

"Where's Casey going?"

Sarah stopped her cleaning. "He's not feeling very well."

"He's not on a mission?"

She shook her head. "Home sick." Off Chuck's perplexed look, she reminded him: "Casey is human, you know."

It was a fact that was easy to forget. "Well, yeah," Chuck began. "I know. You're sure everything's fine?"

She nodded. "We had the morning briefing and the General gave him some time off. And, good news for you, while he's gone, there's not much going on that needs to worry the Intersect."

"Guess that means Shaw's still at some undisclosed location, too, huh?"

"He's still at Langley. No word yet on his return," Sarah acknowledged, her thoughts drifting to the mysterious CIA Special Agent Daniel Shaw.

For a brief moment, Chuck's eyes lit up. "Are you saying we have a free long weekend?"

Sarah smiled politely. "I'm saying _you_ have a free long weekend."

"But you just said..."

"Just because there's not much going on doesn't mean there aren't things I need to do, Chuck."

"Right, right," he lamented. "A spy's job, never done."

* * *

He swirled the ice in the bottom of his glass, sitting on the mezzanine level of the San Francisco Grand Hotel. Quinn Tate watched casually as the doctors bustled about in the lobby, checking into the hotel and the conference. His hazel eyes, shaded by dark blonde hair, darted over each and every person milling about. He knew exactly who he was looking for, as he'd committed to memory her picture: the dark-haired beauty kin to the infamous Agent Charles Carmichael. Carmichael had some kind of information on the Intersect, the US Government's highly-classified intelligence computer. And the key to getting that knowledge was applying the precise amount of pressure at the most opportune time.

And the fact that Carmichael's sister would be wandering in of her own volition was perfect. He just had to wait for that moment.

As it was, however, he'd seen well over two hundred doctors wander in, but he had yet to see the one he was looking for. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until a military doctor entered. He wore the uniform smartly, with his cover tucked under his arm. He was broad-shouldered and well-muscled. He ran his fingers though his short dark hair and casually scanned the area.

It was the roving eyes that caught his attention. It made Tate sit up a little straighter, following the doctor's gaze. This doctor spotted all of the pros and cons in the security system that he himself had seen when he'd entered the hotel.

All of the cameras, the emergency exits, the "employee's only" doors. The open-air stairs and escalators, the bar overlooking the lobby.

Tate made a mental note to check out the military representative's background later. First, the Marine would have to stop looking up at him.

* * *

Casey felt increasingly uneasy. While he was proud to wear the Marine uniform, it wasn't his rank any more. And he was definitely no doctor. It was perhaps the most uncomfortable false identity he'd ever had. And he'd had several he never, ever wanted to revisit.

While flying to San Francisco, he'd had the opportunity to review the hotel's blueprints. He knew the schematics forwards and backwards. He knew the security risks and the benefits. The open lobby concerned him, especially the bar hovering above it.

Height was always an operational advantage.

While he picked up his welcome packet and ID badge, he scanned the discarded list of attendees, spotting Ellie's name. When he signed in, his name was highlighted. Hers was still in plain black and white. She wasn't in yet.

Perfect.

He nodded politely at the conference worker, checked into his room, and immediately headed up to the tenth floor. His room was adjacent to Ellie's.

First things first. He scanned his own room for listening devices or security failures. Satisfied that his room was a typical hotel room, he immediately set up his laptop. He'd need eyes and ears in Ellie's room, standard surveillance.

The room was simple and tastefully decorated, with modern lines and neutral colors. The queen-sized bed was piled high with pillows and had an inviting thick, plush duvet. A mahogany entertainment center hid the flat-screen television. A similarly styled dresser was near the door; nightstand by the bed. There was a comfortable wing-back chair in a nubby corduroy and matching ottoman. A simple desk and office chair occupied a corner.

The bathroom had pedestal sink, small commode, large mirror, and walk-in shower with a frosted glass door.

He'd need two audio feeds, one in the bathroom, one in the bedroom. He'd need one camera watching the front door. Being on the tenth floor, without a balcony, he assumed the large picture window overlooking the city would be relatively safe.

Their rooms were connected by an inner door, one that was currently locked from her side. With a few practiced maneuvers, he was able to pick the lock from the convenience of his own room. He set to work quickly; he wasn't sure when Ellie would be arriving.

He checked to make sure he was the first one to bug her room. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or concerned when his scan came up empty. Either way, he began by setting the audio transmitters. In the bathroom, he hid it behind the thick wooden lip of the mirror.

"Testing," he said normally, before repeating it quieter and quieter, until he was whispering. His laptop was recording. He'd run back the feeds to make sure it was adequate for what he needed.

He hid the second listening device behind the nightstand next to her bed, and performed the same audio test.

He finished up with the camera, hiding it in the air vent in the ceiling. While there had been cameras in every room in Chuck's apartment, including what had been Ellie and Devon's bedroom, he opted to give her a little privacy here. The most important thing he needed to be able to see was the door, to see if someone came in who wasn't supposed to. He'd have to double-check the laptop to make sure the angle was right.

Making sure it seemed as though he hadn't been there at all, he slipped back into his room. He checked the video feed first. It would require a slight adjustment, a little more to the left. Next, he ran the bathroom's audio back, and heard each "testing" clearly, even his last whispered one. Same with the main room's feed.

Rushing back into her room, he angled the camera a fraction so that he was able to see the door fully. "Ready for mark," he muttered, heading back into his room and locking the interior door with another flick of his lock picks.

* * *

Tate rode the escalator down to the lobby after the uniform had disappeared into the elevator. He strolled casually towards the conference check-in table. The closer he got, the more pronounced a fake swagger became. He pointed to a man dressed in green scrubs. "Doc, you da man, man!" he slurred.

The doctor merely looked at him.

"So, you guys having like, a convention, or somethin'?" he asked, with a hiccup. He suddenly careened into the sign-in table, knocking the guest list to the floor. "Oh, man, I'm... So sorry. I'm so sorry," he said, bending over to help the conference staff pick up the materials he'd so conveniently scattered. He grabbed the attendee list and scanned over the first two pages, finding the only highlighted name with a rank next to it.

Major Lucas Casey.

Tate sloppily placed several items back on the folding table and tried to straighten the tablecloth. "My bad, my bad. Phew. Those drinks upstairs... man, they are _strong_," he said, letting out an alcohol-stained breath.

"Sir, I think you ought to leave," the conference employee stated firmly.

"Goin'. I'm goin'. Geez." Tate kept up the stumbling stagger until he reached the elevator. Once he stepped inside, he stood straighter, adjusting his tie.

* * *

Ellie tugged her suitcase in behind her as she rushed into the lobby of the hotel. As she feared, the early registration table was gone. Letting her shoulders droop, she wheeled her suitcase to check into the hotel itself. With a room key in her hand, she headed for the elevator and up to the tenth floor.

She was just putting her key into her lock when the door next to hers opened, and someone stepped out. She glanced over, to see who her neighbor was, and her jaw dropped.

Casey nodded to her slightly, as casually as possible, and walked towards the elevator she'd just vacated.

She reached out to stop him. "Wait, wait... John?"

He looked at her, puzzled. "I'm sorry?"

"I..." Ellie was momentarily convinced it had to be road fatigue. There was no way that her neighbor in the hotel was her neighbor from home. "I thought you were someone else. You look _remarkably_ like someone I know."

"Named John," Casey said, offering her a smile. A real smile. A very un-John-like smile.

She nodded.

"Well, I'm Luke. Lucas Casey, actually," he said, holding his hand out to her. "Are you here for the conference?"

She nodded, placing her hand in his. "Ellie Woodc--" She stopped immediately. "Wait... Casey?" she repeated, standing there, looking at him dumbly.

"You know, I have a brother named John."

"In L.A.," she said. "Who works at the Buy More with my brother...? Who lives across the courtyard from me...?"

"I haven't actually talked with John in a long time, but what you just said would explain why you called me by his name," Casey said.

"You look so much like him," Ellie said, still reeling.

"I should hope so. I mean, he's my big brother, but he's only older by four and a half minutes."

"I didn't know John had a twin!"

"Like I said, we haven't talked in a while," Casey said.

"That's..."

"Small world, huh?"

"Very!" Ellie said with a nod.

"Well, Dr. Wood, was it? If you'd like, we could head down to dinner together."

"Woodcomb," she corrected. "I, uh... Yeah, Dr. Casey, that sounds great. If you don't mind, I need to put this..." She gestured at her luggage.

"I'll be right here," he assured her.

She smiled. "Thanks," she said, disappearing into her room for a few minutes.

As soon as her back was turned to him, Casey delved back into his trademark scowl. Four days of doing this. He could do it. He could definitely manage. He was going to keep telling himself that until it was true.

When she returned, he plastered a genuine smile back on his lips.

"It's so startling," she told him. "I mean, your brother has been at my house for dinner, multiple times... It's..."

"You know," Casey said, as he led her to the elevator, "it's not a medical impossibility, to have an identical twin," he told her with a wink.

She laughed, watching as he pressed the button to go down. "I'm aware, I just... I guess I never assumed he had a brother. He's always been so..."

"Serious?"

"Alone," she said, looking up at Casey. "He's never really talked about his family..."

"Well, we have a mother. Our father died when we were kids..." He was going to develop a multiple personality disorder after this mission.

"I'm so sorry."

"He was a soldier, too, Dad was..." He shrugged slightly. "It comes with the territory."

"Still, it must've been difficult."

"You adapt."

She was well aware of that first hand. She'd had to adapt, and fast, at losing both her parents. "Yeah," she said softly, distantly.

"Are you all right, Dr. Woodcomb?"

"Ellie," she corrected.

"Very well... Are you all right, Ellie?" he asked. There was a small smile on his lips, a playfulness in his eyes.

She looked up at him. "I'm fine. Just, lost still on the '5, I think," she said, shaking her head. "Traffic was murder."

* * *

Stay Tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"I just... Y'know, I can't imagine not talking with my brother for an extended amount of time."

He silently begged the elevator to move faster. "It's not necessarily my own doing." It was all Beckman's fault.

"Maybe after the conference, you could stop in, we could all have dinner?"

There was a disaster waiting to happen. He gestured for her to enter the elevator when the doors finally opened.

She slipped inside. "Nothing too fancy, just a Saturday night dinner, Devon, John, Chuck and Sarah, you..."

Casey joined her. "As much as I appreciate the offer, Ellie, I'm not sure dropping by for dinner unannounced is the best way to reconnect with John. He's not much for surprises." Just before the doors closed, he spotted someone watching them from across the lobby.

The same someone from the mezzanine bar earlier.


	2. Chapter 2

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: The NSA intercepts a message that indicates someone knows that Ellie is Chuck's sister and that she's on her way to a medical conference in San Francisco. Given the potential danger to Ellie, Casey is assigned to protect her while at the conference. Sarah has to determine who's figured out Ellie and Chuck's connection, all the while keeping the information from Chuck and Awesome. At the conference, Ellie meets Lucas Casey, who "happens" to be John's identical twin brother, a Marine medic.

* * *

He watched the information flicker by on his laptop. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, annoyed at the speed, or lack thereof. Between the information retrieval and streaming the entire hotel's security feed off his laptop, the processor was slowing down.

His first hit was from the California DMV and a driver's license from San Diego in Lucas Casey's name. He'd had a few speeding tickets, but nothing serious.

"All right, Dr. Casey, what else do you have?" He punched the address listed on the ID into Google maps and pulled up a photo of a nice-looking apartment complex. Nothing too fancy, nothing too shabby. A middle-class existence. On par for what career military might earn.

His next hit was from the San Diego County Clerk's office, with a marriage license and subsequent divorce certificate. Seems Natalie Lynne Casey was eager to return to her maiden name of Vincent after bearing one child, a son named Ethan Thomas.

A quick check of school records showed Ethan was a smart kid, consistently on the A/B honor roll for his entire fourth-grade career.

"Huh. It's starting to look like you're the real deal."

* * *

Ellie couldn't shake the sense of deja vu. Rationally, it made sense why. She was looking at the startlingly identical twin of one John Casey, Buy More green shirt. It was just miraculous to her, that their situations could be so similar.

One sibling, a doctor, saving lives. The other, in retail, somewhat aimless.

And to see that man smile! She wasn't sure she'd ever seen John give her anything more than a half grin, something more akin to a smirk. Lucas Casey's smile was big, warm, and beautiful, therefore, it stood to reason, John had to have the same kind of smile. Why on earth didn't he use it?

She looked at her empty wine glass. She should've known better than to drink before their meal arrived, after driving for hours to get up there in the first place.

That had to account for her thoughts, she realized, as dinner finally arrived.

She'd sat at the table with Casey and three other doctors, one from San Jose, one from Santa Barbara and one from Sacramento. The conversation was typical of what doctors discussed when they got together: memorable patients, strangest cases. It stuck out in her mind, however, that Lucas wasn't participating as much as they were. He would occasionally throw in a comment: "Oh, I know exactly what you mean" or "Definitely" or "Right." But, nothing substantive.

John seemed much the same way. Too polite to butt into conversation.

"So, Dr. Casey," Ellie began, determined to bring him into the discussion. "What made you decide on medicine?"

Casey had been dreading this moment, but he'd assumed his "test" would come from a medical question, and, as such, had spent time studying an anatomy text before she'd shown up. Of all the things he thought he'd be asked about, Luke's reason for getting into medicine wasn't even on his radar. It should've been. He scratched at his chin, leaning back in his chair slightly for a momentary stall. "Well, for starters, if I'm calling you Ellie, you should definitely call me Luke."

She smiled. Politeness had to be a Casey family gene. "Luke."

"It kind of goes back to what we talked about earlier," Casey said. Off her confused expression, he continued. The best lies often held grains of truth. "My father was a Marine, too, fought in Vietnam. He served his country honorably and gave the ultimate sacrifice, the last full measure of devotion. He came back in a flag-draped coffin. I decided, if I can prevent one kid from having to go through what I went through--" He glanced at Ellie. "--what my brother went through, then... my father's sacrifice had even more meaning."

Ellie was momentarily speechless.

"I picked medicine 'cause it sounded better than law school," muttered the doctor from Sacramento.

Casey hoped his father, up there in heaven somewhere, would forgive the white lie. While it hadn't helped him get into medicine, it had been the reason he had enlisted. He was honoring his father's memory, honoring his country. He was willing to give his life, too, if it ever came to that.

"I wanted to help my brother," Ellie said. "My parents, they both... left. Just up and... walked out. It was difficult and it was painful, but you just have to... adapt," she said, meeting Casey's blue eyes for a brief second. "So I went to med school, to try to ensure a better future for him, for me... to help people who need it."

* * *

Sarah was trying to triangulate the position of the message sender in L.A. The NSA had picked up the signal as it bounced around cell towers in Southern California. She sighed as the computer worked through the possibilities.

Exhaling, she looked at the content of the message again: "Located Carmichael's Achilles' heel: Eleanor Fay Woodcomb, sister. Vulnerability: San Francisco Grand Hotel."

She knew Ellie would be safe with Casey, but there was always the possibility of something going wrong. She wished the General had allowed her to go to as well, as backup. It would've been easy, to make up some story about going away on a romantic weekend with Chuck, to rekindle their relationship, and, oh, it just so happens to be in the same city where Ellie is attending a conference? What a coincidence...

She hadn't suggested it, knowing that the General would've shot down that idea. Because, if Chuck had caught sight of Casey at the convention with Ellie, it would've blown the mission entirely. Even if Chuck had bought the line about Casey's twin brother, it probably wouldn't be until after he'd said something that would jeopardize all their covers, not to mention their lives.

Even though she knew it would take an while to reach the City by the Bay, she was tempted to get in her car and drive up there anyway. If something were to happen, if Casey were to need help, she could at least be on the way.

Of course, Casey was a pro. She was probably just getting herself wound up for nothing.

* * *

"You are so going down..."

"I beg to differ, my brother, because, quite clearly, it is your ass that is getting the major whuppage."

"I got tricks. I got skills."

"Tricks are for kids. And your skills are about to get pwned!"

Chuck watched, in shock, as his best friend, roommate, and gaming buddy, Morgan, decimated his character's life bar. "How did you _do_ that?" Chuck asked, his jaw still hanging open.

"You're gonna catch flies with that... Reel it in, eat some mana strudel, and we'll take it from the top," Morgan said as he stood. "Going for a soda. You in?"

"Sure, grab me one," Chuck said, shaking his head as he watched his character sit down and eat on the computer screen.

"Schweet," Morgan said, abandoning his computer chair and heading for the kitchen. "Snacks?"

"Nah, pizza should be here soon." As soon as Chuck finished his statement, there was a knock at the door. "Lookie there. Kismet," he said, abandoning his own computer to head for the front door. He fished a couple bills out of his wallet as he crossed the living room. He opened the door, fully expecting to see the pizza guy and not at all his brother-in-law.

"Did we get the hot delivery chick?" Morgan asked as he looked at the door. The answer was quite clearly no. "Cap'n."

"Hey, guys, mind if I come hang out?"

"Uh... I guess not. You jonesing for the old homestead or something?" Chuck asked with a wry smile, pulling the door open further.

Devon shrugged. "Just not quite the same without Ellie."

"Ellie's been gone, what, an hour?" Morgan asked. "Seriously, kinda sad, man."

Chuck shot Morgan a look.

"What? It's not my fault the guy is just as whupped as your rogue over there."

"You guys playin' a game?" Devon asked.

"A game? No, no, my man, WoW... WoW is _life_," Morgan intoned. "Come. Sit. Drink," he said, handing Devon a grape soda. "Learn... then roll a Horde."

Devon looked at Chuck, somewhat lost. "Is that a good thing?"

Chuck just grinned.

* * *

After dinner, Ellie registered for the convention. She was surprised to see Casey lingering near the elevator. "You weren't waiting on me, were you?"

Of course he was, but he shook his head. "Last elevator was too full. Thought I'd wait for the next one."

"Well, I'm glad for a familiar face."

He chucked slightly as he pressed the up button again. "Too many doctors, the elevators are taking forever."

"You'd think, at a medical convention, there would be more stair-taking," she said with a smile. "My husband certainly would be one leading the charge if he were here."

Casey looked at the floor indicator above the bank of elevators, waiting on one to get close to the first floor.

"It's not strange, is it?"

He looked over at her. "What?"

"Just, y'know... 'familiar face' line. I mean, I know John, but not terribly well. Enough to say hello. Invite him over for dinner from time to time. He makes these incredible mini-quiches..."

"It's fine."

"I just... Y'know, I can't imagine not talking with my brother for an extended amount of time."

He silently begged the elevator to move faster. "It's not necessarily my own doing." It was all Beckman's fault.

"Maybe after the conference, you could stop in, we could all have dinner?"

There was a disaster waiting to happen. He gestured for her to enter the elevator when the doors finally opened.

She slipped inside. "Nothing too fancy, just a Saturday night dinner, Devon, John, Chuck and Sarah, you..."

Casey joined her. "As much as I appreciate the offer, Ellie, I'm not sure dropping by for dinner unannounced is the best way to reconnect with John. He's not much for surprises." Just before the doors closed, he spotted someone watching them from across the lobby.

The same someone from the mezzanine bar earlier.

* * *

Morgan was passed out on the couch, having been watching Chuck power-level Devon's Blood Elf Paladin. Devon wasn't the quickest of learners, but he was starting to get it after several hours.

"I can see the appeal, bro," Devon said as he pushed his chair back from the computer and stretched his long limbs.

"It's pretty awesome," Chuck admitted. He drained the last of his soda. "Thought you were working doubles while Ellie was gone."

He sighed. "Tried. Hospital decided four straight days of doubles was a bad idea."

Chuck smiled. "I can see where they might be concerned. Is it that strange, without her?"

"I didn't think it would be," Devon admitted. "But, then I'm sitting there, and the kitchen is empty. Y'know, she's not cooking something. She's not... hovering... She's not even there. It's really... I mean, it's kinda unsettling," he admitted.

"Well, I'm sure she's fine. I mean, Frisco isn't like Baghdad, right?"

Devon smiled. "Right. It's just... empty."

"Well, you're more than welcome to crash for the night if you wanted. Just, y'know... be aware the level of cleanliness that used to be in this apartment is, uh... completely obliterated."

"It's a bachelor pad; I get it."

"We'll root Morgan off the couch and it's all yours. And Azeroth is just a stone's throw away," he said, gesturing towards the computer.

Devon chuckled. "Think I'm good in the computer world for a while. I think it's dreamland I'm ready for."

Chuck nodded, then nudged his brother-in-law. "Watch this," he whispered. "Morganator! More DPS, light it up, light it up, light it up!"

Morgan thrashed about, falling off of the couch. "I'm outta mana. Buffs are down. Where's the pally power?" He glanced around as his face found the floor. "We're not raiding, are we, Chuck?"

"Nah, just getting you off Awesome's bed for the night," Chuck said, offering him a hand.

* * *

Ellie sat on her bed and picked up the phone to call Devon. She'd been so flummoxed by John Casey's doppelganger to call when she'd first arrived; she realized he was probably worried sick.

As expected, he sounded anxious when he answered: "Ellie?"

"Devon, I'm so sorry I didn't call when I got here, there was horrible traffic and insanity..."

"Hey, hey, the important part is that you're fine."

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, just... y'know..."

"Cap'n, we're gonna do donuts in the morning; you game?"

Ellie paused. "Was that... Was that _Morgan_?"

"Uh, yeah. I, um... I came to hang with Chuck and Morgan."

"You're not home?"

"It's not home without you, babe."

"Oh, Devon," she said softly.

"If you don't respond, I'm gonna take that as a yes... and if you still don't respond, I'm gonna take that as the noob is buyin' the legendary leet players some breakfast!" continued Morgan.

"Yes, donuts sound good; no, I'm not buying yours," Devon called back.

Ellie laughed. "Don't let me keep you from guy time."

"I, uh.... I'll talk to you in the morning?"

"You bet," she said with a smile.

* * *

Casey had changed out of his uniform and into a pair of comfortable blue jeans and a tee shirt. He sat on the bed, watching the laptop. He had headphones on, but one was off his ear, as he was on the phone with Sarah. "Anything?"

"We still can't figure out where the initial message came from. But, I can tell you I tracked some hits on Lucas Casey. DMV, school, even tax records."

"Somebody's thorough."

"We're more so. We covered every base we could," Sarah assured him.

"Who's looking me up?"

"Probably the same person after Ellie. Same electronic signatures, same insane jumps that just keep... jumping."

"Going crazy over there, Walker?" Off her scoff, he continued: "Well, let's see if we can't speed along our team. You got access to the hotel security, right?"

"Yeah."

"Run it back to about nine o'clock, lobby. There'll be a blonde guy, about five-foot-ten across the entry. Ellie and I were getting on the elevator. Come to think about it, I saw him when I got here, too. He was in the hotel bar. That was about three."

"Hang on," Sarah said.

Casey let out a slow breath. "Like there's anything to do over here. Surrounded by all these doctors..."

"And how is that going, Doctor?" A smile was clearly evident in her voice.

"Well, it's working for the moment."

"Really? Even with Ellie?"

He looked at the door that separated his room from Ellie's. "For the moment," he repeated.

"All right, I've got a picture. Coming your way," Sarah said.

Casey watched as a photo of the man he'd seen pop up on his laptop. "Yup. That's the guy."

"I'll run it through our database, see what we've got."

"Keep me posted."

* * *

Sarah wondered what the harm might be in just showing Chuck the photo. All he'd be able to do was say that there was information in the Intersect or not. She wouldn't have to tell him that it had to do with Ellie. Sure, she'd told him that there was no Intersect duty required this weekend, but it wouldn't be bad, just for one photo.

Knowing it might be their only shot at immediate intelligence, she left the confines of Castle and headed over to Chuck's apartment complex. She didn't bother with knocking on the front door. There was no need to alert Morgan or Devon that she was there. In Casey's absence, she was in charge of Intersect surveillance, as well as the other duties assigned to her for this mission, and, as such, was aware of who was in the apartment and what the sleeping arrangements were.

She tapped on Chuck's bedroom window, formerly known as the "Morgan Door." Since Morgan was now occupying the other bedroom, it had become the Spy Door.

Chuck groaned at the noise, turning over.

Sarah knocked again, a little louder.

Chuck opened one eye, followed by the other as he sat up slowly. He spotted a familiar silhouette on the other side of his window. "Sarah," he whispered. He climbed out of bed and tiptoed towards her. He unlocked and opened the window. "Hey."

"Got a second?"

"Uh... Yeah."

She held out the photograph. "I need to see if you flash."

"I thought you said I had the weekend off."

"Just a quick flash."

"Who is this... guy?" Chuck asked, looking at the photo. His eyes started to glaze.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Sarah said.

Chuck was bombarded with a flurry of images. "Oh, Sarah, he's a bad guy. A very bad guy..."

"Bad how?"

"Merciless killer bad," he said, looking over at her. "Where is he? Who's he after?"

"Name, Chuck. I need a name, some background information."

"Quinn Tate. Secret Service drop-out. Advanced combat training, seriously bad ass with weaponry. He was on security detail till he went a little crazy and got kicked. Creepy dude, really."

"Who's he working for?"

"Who? He's a hired gun. Whoever pays the most."

"Thanks, Chuck." Sarah started to leave.

"Wh-what? Wait! That's it?"

"Just needed a little bit of information."

"You're not going after this guy alone, are you?"

She stopped and looked back at him. She shook her head. "I'm not going after him at all," she told him. It was an honest answer as Casey was on point to take him down.

"But... then..."

"Intersect is back to having a weekend off."

"I don't understand, Sarah..."

"Go to sleep."

"No, wait, seriously," Chuck said, following her out into the courtyard. "With Casey under the weather, Shaw at points unknown, and you, off by yourself, I don't think I like this plan."

"I am forwarding the information to another agent. That's the extent of what I'm doing with the knowledge I just got from you. This guy," she said, holding up the photo again, "isn't even in L.A."

"You sure?"

"Positive," Sarah said.

Chuck watched her for a moment. He was able to tell, most times, when she was lying and when she was telling the truth. He was fairly certain it was truth at this moment. "All right. Good night, Sarah."

She smiled softly. "Good night, Chuck."

* * *

Casey's phone vibrated on the nightstand and he grabbed it. "Yeah."

"Quinn Tate. He's a handful. Former Secret Service, current mercenary."

He shook his head. "I hate assholes whose loyalties are for sale."

"Be careful."

"You..." He drifted off as something spiked the sound meter on his laptop.

"Casey?"

"You watching the video?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"No, but I can be in one minute."

"Going to radio," he said, hanging up.

* * *

Ellie had finally drifted off to sleep after her chat with Devon. She was a deep sleeper, especially as exhausted as she was. She didn't stir when the front door to her room quietly creaked open, letting in a sliver of light. She didn't wake when stealthy footsteps crossed her floor towards her bed.

When the door connecting her room and the next slammed open, however, she sat bolt upright. "Wh--"

Casey stood, his silenced government-issue SIG Sauer P229 aimed at the intruder's head. "Drop it."

Tate trained his weapon on Casey. "My, my, my. Amazing cover, Dr. Casey. Really. Somebody went deep on it."

Ellie looked back and forth between the two men in her room. What were they doing there? Why was she in the middle of it? Why did they both have _guns_? She would've screamed, but she couldn't find her voice.

Casey took another step into the room. Tate, in return, took a step backwards.

"All I'm after is the girl."

"All you're getting is a one-way trip to a cell for a very long time."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"Ellie. In the other room. Now," Casey told her.

"I..."

"Right now," he said urgently, offering her his hand.

Wide-eyed and scared, she took it.

He was in the process of putting her in his room, when she caught sight of glinting silver.

"John!"


	3. Chapter 3

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Ellie connects with John's "twin" while Sarah is still trying to backtrack the initial message, as well as who's been accessing the files on Lucas Casey. Devon crashes at Chuck and Morgan's, to avoid being in an empty house. Casey tips Sarah off to a potential person of interest, and the Intersect flashes on a dangerous mercenary. After Ellie finally gets to sleep, Quinn Tate breaks into her room to find Casey on high alert.

* * *

Sarah fumbled with her spare key to Casey's apartment. It was a precaution she and Casey had begrudgingly agreed upon, as each had a key to the other's home. There were certain restrictions: only to be used in the most dire of emergencies or with express permission. Given Casey's abrupt departure from their telephone call and the need for immediate backup, she figured that qualified on both counts. She slipped the key into the lock and let herself in.

His living room was his command center. She placed her right hand on the biometric scanner by his computer setup and was soon watching the footage from hotel security, as well as listening to Casey's bugs. While she couldn't see much, she could hear everything.

"--is the girl."

"All you're getting is a one-way trip to a cell for a very long time."

She winced, realizing that Casey's cover was blown with Ellie. Grabbing the headset with microphone, she put it on. "Casey, I've got audio, no video in the room itself."

She heard an all-too familiar grunt. Annoyance, but acceptance.

* * *

Tate leaned casually against the entertainment center. "Seems we're at an impasse here, aren't we?" He waved his gun in Ellie's direction.

She inhaled sharply, backing up against the headboard of the bed, clutching the blanket tightly to her chest. Casey advanced towards Tate again, sneering.

Tate grinned. "I'm sure we could come to some kind of an arrangement."

"Sure we could," Casey said, cocking his weapon. "You can leave this woman alone and go, peacefully, into my custody. I think that's best for all three of us."

Tate shrugged. "See, I was thinking less custody, less of leaving my leverage behind."

"Not going to happen," Casey assured him.

"Well, if that's the case..." Tate rushed at him, turning his handgun around to hit Casey in the face with it.

Casey fought back, shoving Tate against the entertainment center. "Ellie, stay down," he ordered. He slammed Tate's gun hand into the wall just twice before the weapon clattered to the floor. In the scuffle, he managed to kick it beneath the bed.

Ellie wasn't moving. She wasn't entirely sure she was even capable of breathing. It had to be a dream, just a bad dream.

Tate growled, going after Casey with new fervor, trying to take the NSA agent's sidearm.

Not a dream, a movie, Ellie decided. She went to sleep and woke up in an action movie, one of those things she'd reluctantly gone to see at the theater with Devon and the frat brothers. Something with lots of explosions and blood. She didn't particularly care for seeing blood when she wasn't at work. Give her a classic black and white flick any day.

Casey and Tate rumbled, rolling about on the floor, getting slammed into other pieces of furniture. Casey finally lost control of his gun when Tate knocked his arm into the bathroom door. It took Tate a moment to realize his adversary was empty handed and, in that moment, Casey dove for it, knocking it into the darkness of the adjacent hotel room.

With Casey more concerned about securing the weapon, Tate lunged at Ellie in the bed. She screamed, recoiling further. Casey got to his feet quickly and grabbed Tate's legs, yanking him away from her, tossing him into the bathroom.

"Ellie. In the other room. Now," Casey told her.

"I..."

Casey kicked at Tate, who was trying to stand. "Right now," he said urgently, offering her his hand.

Wide-eyed and scared, she took it.

He pulled her out of bed and was in the process of putting her in his room when she caught sight of glinting silver.

"John!"

He paused, shocked at the use of his actual name. He grit his teeth as he felt his shoulder catch fire. He slammed the door between the rooms, ensuring Ellie was safely on the other side before he backed into Tate.

Tate slashed again at Casey's shoulder then, with a grunt, kicked the back of his knee, making the NSA agent crumble.

With Casey scrambling to get back up, Tate sprinted out the front door.

"Castle, Tate's on the move," Casey radioed.

"Watching on the feed. Nothing I can do," Sarah said, hating waiting on the sideline. "Ellie?"

"She's not hurt," he said. He swallowed a curse. He, however, was. "We're gonna need a safer room."

"On it."

Casey grunted, moving towards the door through which Tate had just escaped. He snagged the "do not disturb" sign, opened the door, and hung it hastily. Closing and locking it, he then painfully moved the dresser in front of it. "He didn't have a silencer."

"What?"

"He didn't have a silencer; he wasn't going to shoot her." He knelt down, finding Tate's gun under the bed. "He was going to take her." He put the gun in the waistband of his jeans.

"She called you John..."

So Sarah had caught that, too. "I'll work on damage control, once we get a new room." He struggled to catch his breath. "What do you have?"

"Looks like the penthouse. It requires a different key with more advanced encryption than the normal room keys. We can't fabricate it; it'll have to come from the hotel itself."

He exhaled. "Get me the room upgrade. Get me the new key."

"Yeah."

Casey sighed, before approaching the door between the rooms. "Ellie... Ellie, it's just me, all right?" He opened the door slowly. He held his hands up, open, as non-threatening as possible.

Ellie was standing there in shock. She'd had enough wits about her to find Casey's gun and point it towards him, but her arms trembled violently.

"Easy," he said, hoping she didn't get jumpy and fire.

"The other guy..."

"He's gone for now. He won't come back, not tonight."

Slowly, Ellie lowered the weapon, holding it out to Casey, who quickly took it.

"We're going to be moving rooms. For your safety."

"For my safety?" she managed to repeat.

"Yeah," he said, putting his gun in the holster on the bed.

"Wh... I don't..." Her eyes grew large when she saw the twin gashes in his shoulder. "You're hurt."

"It can wait," he told her. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the holster on, ignoring the screams of protest from his shoulder. He couldn't avoid the guttural grunt that accompanied the pain, however. "Did you unpack your belongings?"

Startled at the dismissal of his injury, it took her a moment to process his question. "What? No..."

"Grab your suitcase," he told her, pulling on a black jacket, to hide both his injury and the sidearm.

"But you..." She shook her head. None of this made sense.

Casey looked at her. "Do you trust me?"

She hesitated.

"I'm the guy that got rid of the guy who broke into your room, who wanted to take you," he reminded her.

She managed a nod.

"I'm the good guy here."

"I just... this is all..."

"Overwhelming, I know, but I need you to get your suitcase, Ellie."

She looked fretfully at the door between rooms. "But, he..."

"That room is safe for the next five minutes," he promised.

She regarded at him for a long moment before nodding. "Okay," she whispered, disappearing back into her room.

"Hotel staff on their way with new key," Sarah radioed.

"Fantastic," Casey replied, closing his laptop and slipping it into his backpack.

"Are you okay?"

"Been in worse scrapes," he told his partner as he finished removing all traces of his NSA existence from the room. "Send in somebody to come clean the rooms, mine and hers."

"Yeah."

"And have 'em bring a watch set up for her."

"You're going to wire Ellie?" Sarah asked.

"You got a better idea, there, Rook?" he fired back haughtily. "Easiest way to communicate, by far."

"All right," Sarah radioed, relenting. "I'll make sure someone gets it there by morning."

Casey merely grunted as he slung his backpack onto his uninjured shoulder as Ellie returned to the room. She was no longer in her pajamas, standing there in the same clothes she'd been wearing when she'd arrived at the hotel a few hours ago.

She nearly panicked when there was a knock at the door.

He silenced her pending scream with a well-timed glare and crossed towards the door. Gritting through the pain, he put his right hand on his gun and opened the door slightly.

A hotel employee waited cheerfully. "Dr. Casey? Your room key."

Casey quickly took it. "I'm still keeping this room, too." The "do not disturb" sign was already on the knob.

"Very well, sir. Thank you for staying at the Grand."

Casey merely closed the door, and waited several seconds. "Castle?"

"He's leaving," Sarah assured him.

"I don't trust the elevators at the moment; how are the stairwells looking?"

Ellie watched as he seemed to be talking to himself.

"Southeast stairwell empty. Southwest has some doctor revelers."

Casey rolled his eyes. "Let's go, Ellie," he said, opening the door. He grabbed his big black duffel bag and walked out first, with Ellie immediately behind him.

It was a long trek up nine flights of stairs, but it was worth it as he put the key into the lock and the penthouse suite opened up.

The modern décor was still evident, but it had more of a homey appeal. Plush couches, long, low tables, exquisite lighting. It looked more like something out of a decorator magazine.

"So, now--"

Casey shook his head, dropping his duffel onto the floor. Ellie opened her mouth to try again then stopped, nervously fiddling with her wedding and engagement rings. He removed his backpack, unzipped the main compartment, and pulled out a small hand-held device along with a hard plastic case. She watched as he methodically moved about the suite's many rooms, his trained blue eyes scanning both the room itself as well as the device in his hand. When he seemed satisfied, he placed something small from the case in each room.

Once he completed his assessment, he lifted his watch to his mouth. "Got enough eyes and ears, Castle? I gotta get patched up."

"We're good," Sarah radioed.

"Great," Casey muttered, pulling off his jacket and holster painfully.

The voice in his ear couldn't stop the commentary: "It looks really bad."

"Just what I need," he muttered as he removed Tate's gun from his waistband. "Peanut gallery." He took his watch off, holding it up to his mouth. "Going off transmitter, but I'll still have the receiver. Let me know what's coming."

"Roger that," Sarah responded.

Casey rifled though his duffel bag, coming up with a white medical kit. He looked over at Ellie, who was still standing just beyond his reach, in utter shock. "Take a breath, Dr. Woodcomb. You're safe here," he assured her before walking past her and going into one of the suite's bathrooms.

She remained standing, watching as he peeled off his blood-soaked shirt. In addition to the new wound, it was clear he was used to pain. He had a blistering red line on his lower back, stretching from his left side to his spine. The front of his right arm was a mess of scar tissue, probably from improper stitches and infection.

It was an awkward process, seeing him attempt to clean the gash. The angle was impossible; he'd never be able to do his own sutures. "You need help," she managed.

Feeling eyes on him, he glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. "That an offer or an I'm-still-too-shaky-to-sew-that-up 'sorry'?"

"Who are you? What was all that downstairs? Why up here? What--"

He sighed. Now that she'd found the power of the English language again, she was full of questions, none of which Casey wanted to answer. "All I can tell you is that it's a matter of national security. That's it."

Ellie crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you in a position to make a deal?"

"I'm not in a position to do much at the moment, other than bleed on the tile."

"If I help you get your shoulder in order, will you answer my questions?"

"National security, Dr. Woodcomb," he repeated. "No can do." He looked back at the reflection of his wound. Maybe he could just ace bandage the sucker and hope for the best.

"But, see, John... or Luke... or whomever, anything you tell me while under my care would qualify under the doctor-patient confidentiality rules, which I am bound to abide by. So, really, as long as it has nothing to do with child abuse, anything you say will be held in the strictest of confidences. Again, except for the abuse, which I am legally bound by the State of California to report to the proper authorities..."

Clearly babbling was a Bartowski trait. Casey watched her for a long moment. She didn't say he had to answer the questions truthfully necessarily. And there was no way he could stitch himself up. "You won't tell anyone else? Not Devon, not Chuck..."

"Doctor-patient confidentiality means your doctor, that's me, and patient, that's you. And no one else in the world."

God help him, he needed her assistance. "Deal."

Ellie nodded and immediately moved forward. "Hell of a wound," she murmured, scrubbing up in the sink.

"Sure you wanna waste your twenty questions time with observations, there, Doc?"

She glanced at his reflection. Behind the bravado, she could see the pain in his blue eyes. "I guess not." Once her hands were clean, she started pulling on latex gloves. "Just who are you?"

"John Casey."

"I thought it was odd, that you and your twin brother would have the same scar on the same cheek in the same spot..."

He grunted, as if to ask: again with the observations?

She realized her mistake. "Oh, right..." Clearing her throat, she spoke again: "Who was that man?"

"Someone who wanted to kidnap you."

Ellie shook her head as she threaded the needle. "But, why? I'm nobody."

"You're Dr. Eleanor Faye Woodcomb. You're somebody."

"But, why would they be after me?"

"Maybe he thought you knew something."

"But, I don't _know_ anything!"

"Well, I'm hoping that you know how to patch me back up and that you can keep my secrets when those gloves come back off," he said, looking at her pointedly.

"Who are you?"

"I said already. John Casey."

"No, I mean..." She hesitated. "I mean, what are you?" she asked. "How does a guy from the Buy More know how to take down strange people with guns?"

He exhaled, as she finally started to work on sewing him back together. "Not everything I told you earlier was a lie. Well, some details were tweaked... It's not Major anymore, it's Colonel. Colonel John Casey, USMC. I'm no doctor, though."

That made some sense, but something troubled her. "Wait, if you're in the Marines, like, active-duty Marine, what are you doing at the Buy More?"

"It's a cover. A false existence."

"A cover? At the _Buy More_? For what?"

"I can't reveal my assignment, Ellie."

She sighed. "All right, can you reveal why you came to San Francisco? How you got a room right next to mine? How you became your own twin brother?"

"Look, it wasn't my choice, to go about things like this." Again, it was the truth. "There was a limited amount of time in which to pull off what needed to be done. If it hadn't been done this way, you'd probably be halfway to some South American country right now," he said, glancing sideways and catching her reflection in the mirror.

She paused in mid stitch to look back at him. "Who's making the calls? If it wasn't your choice to lie to me, to do all of this... whose choice is it? CIA? FBI?"

He shook his head. "Wouldn't be caught dead in either of those agencies, no."

"Then, who?"

He took a long, slow breath, then spoke deliberately: "No one you Should know About..."

She sighed in exasperation. "John, please. I pay taxes! Doesn't the Freedom of Information Act apply or something?"

He cleared his throat. Too subtle. She was too rattled. "National Security Agency."

"National... Security... Agency," she repeated slower. "Why would the NSA protect me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He cracked a smirk. "You pay taxes."

"So do lots of people!"

He closed his eyes as she jabbed his skin particularly hard with the needle. Clearly, getting one's doctor riled while she was performing minor surgery was not the best of ideas. "Look, Ellie, the guy that was after you? He's just a middle man. He's after a paycheck. He doesn't care what you know or don't know. All he knows is that there's a price tag attached to everything he does, and somebody, somewhere, decided you were worth something to them. Who knows what that reason is. Maybe they think that you're connected to something larger..."

"As far as I can tell, John, the only thing that might remotely put a target on my back is the fact that I'm neighbors with a guy who works at the Buy More who isn't really who he says he is!"

He sighed. "Bottom line is, you are under the protection of the NSA until the end of the convention. You will mingle and learn. You will go home a smarter doctor. You will not be taken. You will not die."

"What about... What about when I go home? What then?"

"How 'bout we get through my stitches first, huh?" he asked, glancing back at her.

Taking a steadying breath, she finished up the last of the sutures. "John, I always thought you were a level-headed, straight-arrow kind of guy."

"And now?" he asked.

"Now I don't know what to think. And I feel like there's still so much I don't know."

"For starters... first impressions are generally the best. Your gut instinct about someone, about a situation will tell you more than any over-analyzing you plan on doing. I'm a guy who does what he does to protect his country. End of story."

"That may be the end of your story, but it seems like we're in the middle of mine!"

He sighed. "Knowledge isn't always power. The more you know, the more in danger you are."

"That doesn't sound like one of those happy, shiny NBC PSAs," she said, placing a bandage over the wound. "I still don't understand this. At all."

He turned to look at her. "Ellie..."

"It's just... Everybody is so weird these days," she said, putting the first aid kit back together. "Chuck's strangeness has progressively gotten worse. And every now and then, Devon goes off and I'm not sure where he goes... and he's spending so much time with Chuck lately, which is good, but also out of the ordinary... And now... now it turns out you're some kind of government secret agent?"

He watched as the latex gloves came off and she tossed them into the wastebasket. "You realize this is the end of doctor-patient privileged information time, right?"

She sighed heavily. "What about when you get the stitches out? Do I get to ask follow up questions then?"

"We'll see. C'mon," he said, leading her into the living room. He stopped briefly, finding a clean tee shirt in his duffel and pulling it on. "Your room will be the interior room," he said, grabbing her suitcase and wheeling it in for her. "You have no direct access to the balcony. It's the safest, most protected room."

"Okay."

"I'm going to take the one adjacent to you. That way, if our kidnaper friend decides to drop back in, he'll have to get through me to get to you... and he won't get through me in one piece."

She pondered that. He'd kill for her? She was that important? Was she important enough for Casey to take a bullet for her? He already took a knife to the shoulder--twice--because of her. Jesus, who did that?

Seeing her unmoving form, he took a slight step towards her and lowered his voice: "You need to try to get some sleep."

"John..."

"Rest, Ellie."

She nodded slowly, watching as he retreated to the living room, closing the door behind him.

With a heavy sigh, Casey grabbed his watch, putting it back on. "Still with me, Castle?"

"Still here," Sarah responded. "How's the cover?"

He grabbed the rest of the surveillance gear to place. "Mine's blown. All others is in tact."

"You did the right thing," Sarah told him.

He scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Remind Beckman, would you?"

"It won't come to that."

"You're sure, are you?"

"Ellie's a gamer."

He'd just entrusted her with state secrets. "I hope so."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

While Chuck locked up, Devon noticed a familiar blonde emerging from the apartment across the courtyard. "Dude..."

"Yeah?" Chuck asked, turning once he was satisfied the door was locked.

"You got other job stuff?" Devon asked, nodding towards Sarah, who was locking Casey's door.

"I don't know," Chuck said, frowning when he realized that she was still wearing the same clothes she had worn the day before.


	4. Chapter 4

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Additional Author's Notes: Thanks for the well-wishes, guys. I'm starting to finally feel like a real person again. :) And, because we have to wait so long for new Chuck, I'll be updating twice a week during the Olympics!

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Casey battles Tate, a mercenary after Ellie for her connection to Chuck. Tate runs off, but not before injuring Casey. Ellie is petrified but goes along with Casey when he moves her to the penthouse, a more secure location within the conference hotel. With the promise of keeping everything said during his stitches under doctor-patient confidentiality, Casey breaks his cover with Ellie.

* * *

The night hadn't been an entire waste. He was certain now that Eleanor Woodcomb was important. Why else would she have a military bodyguard?

But, he had certain new problems. He was supposed to be on his way to a private hanger at the airport right now with a subdued doctor in his care. A plane was waiting, fueled and ready, to take her to his employer. As he holed back up in his hotel across town, he pulled out his rounded, black cell phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Yes?"

"Package not yet picked up. Turns out it's going to be trickier to get than you originally thought."

"It's just a package. How difficult can it be?"

"When it's under certain protections, it's very difficult," Tate spat back. "My fee has increased."

"Fine. Any additional monies will be provided upon delivery of the package, not before."

"I'm risking my neck for you."

"You are supposed to be the best procurer in the business. I'm starting to doubt that."

Tate sneered. "The reason I have a job is because incompetent asses like you are incapable of performing the task."

"Just get me my package," snapped the voice on the other end.

Tate terminated the call, resisting the urge to throw the phone across the room.

* * *

"Rise and shine, bro!"

Chuck groaned when he heard Devon's voice. He rolled over in bed, trying to bury his head under his pillow.

"If we're making this donut run, it's gotta be now. I've got a bypass at eight."

"M'up," Chuck muttered, feeling suddenly cooler. His hands groped around for his covers, realizing they were no longer on the bed at all. Lifting his head, he saw Devon standing there in the doorway with a grin and his blankets. "All right," he grumbled, getting up. "Donut run. S'Morgan up?"

"I don't think World War III could wake him up. I tried."

"That's Morgan," he sighed. "Be right out, just gonna grab... clothes."

"You got it, bro," Devon said, disappearing around the corner.

Chuck rubbed his eyes before shedding his pajamas and pulling on clean jeans and a tee shirt. He fumbled with his socks, and slipped his toes into his favorite Converse sneakers. He grabbed his wallet, his cell phone, and was in the process of putting his watch on as he meandered out into the living room.

He stopped for a moment and blinked when he realized that the living room was clean. There were no empty soda cans or overturned takeout cartons. "Oh, man... Ellie's rubbing off on you, isn't she?"

"It's hard to sleep when she's not around," Devon admitted.

"Let's go get sustenance, huh?"

Devon smiled, leading the way out of the apartment. While Chuck locked up, Devon noticed a familiar blonde emerging from the apartment across the courtyard. "Dude..."

"Yeah?" Chuck asked, turning once he was satisfied the door was secure.

"You got other job stuff?" Devon asked, nodding towards Sarah, who was locking Casey's door.

"I don't know," Chuck said, frowning when he realized that she was still wearing the same clothes she had worn the day before. "Sarah?"

She turned. "Hey, guys," she said, smiling when she saw them. She met them in the middle of the courtyard, at the fountain. "How's it going?"

"We could ask you the same," Chuck said.

"Well, Casey's doing a little better. Brought him some orange juice, chicken soup," Sarah said, lying easily.

"Big guy not feeling well?" Devon asked with a frown. "He need a doctor?"

"He just needs his rest," she said, shaking her head. "He'll be fine before you know it."

"I'd be happy to make a house call," Devon told her. "Keeping you guys in tip-top condition, that's my patriotic duty."

Sarah smiled politely. "Casey's not big on seeing anyone while he's sick."

"I'm not just anyone," Devon said. After all, he knew the truth about Chuck, Sarah, and Casey.

"Let's see if he can't kick it by himself. If he continues to be ill, we'll set up a time for you to come check him out," Sarah said.

Devon nodded. "All right. Fair enough. We're gonna grab breakfast. You game?"

"I would, but I've gotta run some errands this morning. See you guys later?"

Chuck got the distinct feeling that something was wrong. He just wasn't sure what it was. "Yeah, you bet."

* * *

Because Ellie hadn't slept well, Casey hadn't slept well. She'd tossed and turned and called out, waking up from numerous nightmares. Casey had spent the night making judgment calls: was she in actual danger? Or just frightened from the residual memories? Until he was certain she was in real danger, he was determined not to startle her any further. He figured coming in to check on her every five minutes would only increase her skittishness, which was not something he wanted to do.

He'd gotten her up almost an hour ago. She'd spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom, taking a shower. He'd heard the hairdryer go for what seemed like forever. When she finally emerged dressed for the day, he stood from where he'd been sitting at the small dining table. "I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of ordering breakfast." He'd already eaten his slice of quiche and apple. Her meal was still under the room service cover.

"Thank you." She crossed towards the table, taking a peek at what he'd ordered for her: an omelet, with ham, cheese and peppers--her favorite--with hash browns and a cup of assorted fruit. She didn't hesitate before taking a bite.

"Coffee?"

She nodded.

Casey filled a cup from the carafe and added a splash of creamer, the way she liked it, before handing it to her.

She looked up at him slowly. Just how well did he know her, she wondered, because she certainly felt like she didn't know him at all. "How..." She cleared her throat, deciding on a different question. "How's your shoulder?"

"I'll live."

She ate for a moment in silence, but it didn't last for long. "You didn't even twitch. And there weren't any anesthetics or anything."

He knew she was fishing, for what, he wasn't entirely sure. "Not my first time getting stitches."

"You know, it almost makes sense... Christmas Eve, year before last, when we were in that hostage situation... Even after you'd lost your toe, you were so calm."

He unconsciously wiggled his toes in his shoes but was silent.

Part of that event suddenly made infinitely more sense to her. "You tried to protect me then, too."

He looked up at her, momentarily confused. "What?"

"When the guy was releasing hostages, you tried to get him to let me go."

Memories of the event flooded his brain. "I don't really remember," he lied.

"How can you forget that? It was the most harrowing Christmas Eve ever."

He shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Just... John, were you protecting me then, too?"

Casey cleared his throat, avoiding the question. "Speaking of protecting you..." He nodded towards where she sat. "There's a box beside your breakfast."

She'd seen the plastic case but hadn't thought much of it. "What is it?"

"Spy tech," he told her. "Open it."

She lowered her fork and wiped her mouth with her napkin before opening the box. Inside was a silver watch, delicate, definitely her taste, with a mother-of-pearl face. She looked up at him with a slight, wry smile. "Are we going to synchronize watches?"

"Put it on," he told her.

She lifted the watch, sliding it on and fastening it. It fit perfectly. She looked curiously, however, at the tiny hearing aid that was still in the box.

"That watch is equipped with a GPS tracking device as well as a sensitive microphone. Even if your hands are by your sides, if you say something normally, I'll be able to pick it up. If you're in a tight spot, lift the watch to your mouth. No matter how quietly you speak, I'll hear it."

"What's that?" she asked, pointing into the box.

"Your receiver. With that, you'll be able to hear anything I say into my watch."

"You weren't kidding about spy tech," she said as she nervously put the receiver in her ear.

Casey, even though he was sitting across the table from her, lifted his watch to his mouth and said something that would've been otherwise inaudible. "I never kid about my gear."

It was like he'd just physically whispered that in her ear. The only thing missing was his warm breath on her skin. It made her shiver.

He lowered his watch, speaking normally. "I'll be at your side throughout the convention, but, if we get separated, I'll never be more than a whisper away."

* * *

Chuck did a double-take when he spotted Jeff and Lester at the Nerd Herd desk. In addition to the typical Nerd Herd attire of a white oxford, skinny tie and pocket protector, the two had added sleek fedoras at rakish angles and black sunglasses. Sighing, he approached the desk carefully. "Jake," he said, nodding to Jeff. "Elwood," he said, nodding to Lester. "On a mission from God, are we?"

"I'd tell you," Jeff said, "but then I'd have to kill you."

"Seriously, what's with the Blues Brothers stuff? Jeffster covering Soul Man?"

Lester scoffed then lowered his sunglasses slightly, to look over the tops of the lenses at Chuck. "We are not criminal singers from a movie, Charles. We're Men in Black. Only, it's a little warm for the sports coats."

"Okay, you're MIBs," Chuck said, playing along. "Did aliens land and I missed it?"

"If you must know," Jeff began, "we're hiding in plain sight. When the G-men roll into town to ensure that their dastardly plan has worked, that John Casey delivered the germ-filled package to destroy the Burbank Buy More from the inside out, we'll be able to walk away, safe and unharmed."

Chuck wondered if they ever stopped to listen to themselves. "John Casey is not..." He sighed. "He's not a spy sent to deliver some horrible disease to wipe out the Buy More, okay?" He was a spy sent to protect Chuck, but that was top-secret intel.

"You keep telling yourself that," Jeff said, shaking his head.

"Exactly, Jefferson. 'Cause 'mind over matter' always works," Lester said with a roll of his eyes before pushing his sunglasses further up his nose.

* * *

Ellie's strategy was simple: focus on the speaker, take copious notes. She barely looked up from her notepad for the entirety of the first session. Sure, there was a slide-show presentation, but each participant had been given a printed copy with the registration packet. She made notes along the margin of the handout. The harder she focused on the speaker, the easier it was to forget that the man sitting next to her was, in all probability, wearing a concealed weapon beneath his jacket. The more she wrote, the faster she forgot that someone had tried to take her in the night.

Besides, she tried to tell herself, worrying about what she had no control over was pointless. Her safety was in the hands of her very own government-trained bodyguard.

Sensing his charge was getting lost in the madness of what surrounded her, Casey reached over, turning the page for her as the slides changed on the large screen at the front of the room.

As he did so, she noticed the gold and garnet ring on his hand. It hadn't been there the day before but she'd never seen Casey without it otherwise. She glanced over at him. He was sitting at attention, his blue eyes on constant alert.

Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced back at her. As soon as he spotted her watching him, however, she returned her attention to the speaker and her scribbling.

* * *

Sarah sat at the small conference table at Castle. She was about to have a meeting with General Beckman, to give her an update on what she knew, which wasn't much. The only information had come from Chuck, and she was sure she'd get a lecture because of it.

She was also worried about Devon and Chuck, about what was going to tell them when she could no longer avoid their questions about Casey's health.

The screen went from the Office of the Director of National Intelligence logo to the face and office of General Beckman. "Good morning, Agent Walker."

"General," she returned cordially.

"I've read Colonel Casey's report from the events in San Francisco last night. He states you determined the person watching and, later, attempting to take Eleanor Woodcomb was Quinn Tate. How were you able to ascertain that information?"

"I ran the photo through a graphical imaging scan," she said. It wasn't an entire lie. Chuck could be described as such.

Beckman wasn't buying the semantics run-around. "You took it to the Intersect, you mean?"

"I felt it was pertinent to retrieve the information as quickly as possible, and with most of the resources for this particular mission being allocated to determining the source of the transmission for the initial message, the Intersect was the only logical place to take it."

"Did you tell him why you needed the information?"

She shook her head. "All he was told was that Tate was not a direct threat to him, nor was the he even in L.A., and another agent would be handling any contact."

"So, he remains in the dark about his sister?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dr. Woodcomb as well?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Beckman sighed heavily, looking at the CIA agent sternly. "You will refrain from taking any other information from this case to the Intersect, is that understood, Agent Walker?"

Sarah nodded.

The General leaned back in her chair slightly. "What do we know about Tate's movements before the conference?"

"He has perfected the art of covering his tracks. Each town, a new identity. He arrived at the hotel before Casey. I've been able to access the archived security footage, to determine the precise moment he entered, and have been working backwards with traffic, ATM and other security cameras, to try to pinpoint where he came from, see if I can't find him getting into a rental car or if there's a time when he shows the key of his hotel. He's not staying at the Grand with Casey and Ellie."

"Keep working, Agent Walker."

"Yes, ma'am."

The General disappeared, replaced by the logo again. She exhaled. It wasn't as bad as she feared it might be, but on top of trying to find Ellie's potential kidnapper, she still had to come up with a convincing cover for Casey's absence.

* * *

Tate sat at the coffee shop across from the Grand, sipping his black coffee and pondering his next moves. He was certain that the hotel would be off limits. Now that he knew Ellie was protected, he couldn't be certain what new precautionary measures were in place since her protection knew the threat was real.

He hated leaving a job unfinished. It bothered him. He liked the satisfaction of completion and the cush that it provided to his bank account. He wasn't sure who "Lucas Casey" really was, but he figured the name she called out was his real name: John.

His luck, it was another alias. Something awful like John Smith. He wasn't about to open that can of worms. He was just going to have to wait until they came out. And if they wouldn't on their own, he'd find a way to make them.

* * *

Chuck smiled when he saw Sarah stroll into the Buy More. He quickly jumped over the Nerd Herd desk and crossed towards her. "Sarah."

"Hey," she said, smiling softly.

"How's our favorite No-Such agent? Awesome's called me twice to see if he could stop by. My brother-in-law is going to be impossible to live with unless we give him some kinda mission, y'know? He's just lost without Ellie, which is sweet, but it has the potential to drive me crazy..."

"Casey's fine."

"I mean, it's swine flu, right? He's seen a doctor? He's got medicine and soup and tissues and stuff?"

"He's fine," she repeated firmly.

Chuck could tell there was something off in her voice, something that wasn't quite normal. "He's not sick, is he?" he asked quietly, well aware that Morgan and Big Mike were both wandering the sales floor.

She hesitated.

"Is it a mission?"

She shook her head and decided to come, well, at least somewhat clean. "He had something come up and had to leave town for a few days."

"Oh... okay... But, what were you doing at his apartment this morning?"

"It's the nature of his agency to listen in, not mine. While he's away, someone has to man the listening post."

"You could just, y'know, stay at my apartment. That might look better than you sneaking into and out of Casey's place." He lowered his voice further: "What if Morgan had seen you?"

"I'll be monitoring from Castle until Casey comes home. It was just, the information yesterday that you flashed on? I needed to get disseminated as quickly as possible to the agent who needed it, and his apartment was right there."

He nodded, then offered her a boyish grin. "But, you could still stay with me..."

"Like I said, just because the Intersect isn't needed doesn't mean I'm not."

"What can you do while Casey's gone?"

"There's plenty I can do, Chuck. I've been working on analysis all morning, actually."

"Where did Casey go anyway?"

She didn't hesitate when she answered: "It was personal; he needed to take a few days." She could tell he wanted to ask more questions, so she tried to cut him off: "He didn't even tell me what was going on. I just know it was something he needed to take care of."

"He can take personal time like that? Randomly, suddenly?"

"Sometimes, you don't get much advance warning when things happen."

"Something happened?" Chuck asked. "I mean, I know it's hard to believe, but somewhere he's got a family..."

"I said it was personal," Sarah reminded gently.

He nodded slowly, thinking about his family, about Ellie, about his parents.

"Don't worry about Casey."

* * *

The San Francisco Grand Hotel had a lovely restaurant on the second floor, which was packed by the time Casey and Ellie made it there for lunch. The mezzanine level bar, which served classic pub grub, was filled to capacity and then some.

Ellie looked at her new watch, checking the time. "They didn't really give us any time to eat. I mean, session starts again in a half hour. By the time we left to go anywhere, it'd be time to come back. What about room service?"

"Given the wait on the elevator followed by the wait for the meal itself, we'd probably be in the session an hour, hour and a half before the cart finally arrived."

"How'd you manage breakfast?"

"Early riser." While it was true he was normally up before sunrise, he'd taken a moment to call the concierge desk about three that morning--after one of Ellie's nightmares--and made arrangements for breakfast to come on time. "I'll take a better look at the conference schedule and try to prearrange meals until we leave."

She looked longingly at the plates being brought out to the lucky doctors who'd scored tables.

"C'mon, let's improvise."

She looked up to realize he was taking a few steps away from her. She caught up quickly. "J..." She stopped. He was still Luke to everyone else. "Uh, Luke," she corrected. "What are we doing?"

He led her up to one of the residential floors. Just to the right of the elevator bank were vending machines. He pulled out his wallet and a few one dollar bills.

She looked, somewhat sadly, at the selection.

"Dinner will be better," he promised as he fed the machine a dollar.

* * *

Tate looked at his laptop, picking up the wireless internet from the coffee shop. He was still streaming the hotel security footage, but it continued to be slow. He seemed to get an image every few seconds. He spotted his target and her bodyguard looking forlornly at the restaurant before getting in the elevator. For a moment, he thought his luck might've shifted. The coffee shop, while it didn't offer much, did have real food. Bagels and croissants, pastries and treats. A few doctors had already wandered in.

He sighed as he saw the feed shift on the fourth floor and he saw the man he'd fought the night before retrieving sodas and snacks.

He'd been trained to guard dignitaries. He knew that government protocols were to keep the protectee in as safe a location as possible, which was why the bodyguard wasn't taking the mark out for lunch.

He thought about retracing his steps, about going after the other Dr. Woodcomb, her husband. Given that this one was protected, however, made him wonder if the other wouldn't be as well. While it might put pressure on Ellie, it certainly wouldn't do much against Carmichael, and that was the objective of his mission, to flush out the super spy, the one who had to know something about the computer program which was quickly becoming myth among the world's elite counter-agents: the Intersect.

He was beginning to believe it was hooey. But, why else would Ellie Woodcomb be protected?

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

She looked completely nervous the moment she was walking unattended. He casually lifted his hand, as if to check the time, but pressed the mike button on his watch. "You'll be fine," he said quietly.

"Easy for you to say," she muttered. A dozen horrible scenarios played out in her head.

"If you even remotely feel like you're in trouble, say one word and I'll be there."

"You'll just bust right in? Won't that break your cover?"

He glanced around casually, taking up a spot along the wall, next to a fire alarm. "Not necessarily," he radioed.


	5. Chapter 5

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Thanks to the lovely and talented Brandywine00 for the assist with the remaining chapters.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Ellie doesn't sleep well after the unsettling events, but in the morning Casey gets her wired for sound so she can attend the convention, as normally as possible. Chuck and Devon spot Sarah coming out of Casey's apartment early in the morning. Sarah winds up coming clean to the General about using the Intersect and to the Intersect about Casey not really being sick. Meanwhile, Tate's employer isn't thrilled that the mission isn't done yet, and Tate isn't thrilled he has to up his game.

* * *

Ellie sat quietly in her seat in the conference, crunching thoughtfully on the trail mix Casey bought her. He was currently standing between her and the door, on his cell phone in the otherwise empty room. She couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't seen it before. It had always kind of stuck out in her mind, that something was not quite right. While she'd always found him to be polite and kind, he just didn't seem like someone who would choose working with the public as his vocation. He didn't seem to like people in general. He seemed to be the kind of person who, once you got to know, was a wonderful friend.

It was that "once you got to know" business that worried her. She thought she knew him. Not well enough to know his middle name or details about his family, but enough to know the kinds of foods he liked, the wines he enjoyed. That he seemed to take pride in everything he did, from caring for his bonsai tree to washing his car, to even, albeit reluctantly, to selling large appliances.

But, what did she know really?

Now she knew he was a government agent, on the phone with probably other government agents, all trying to save her from some danger she just couldn't comprehend.

She thought back to their earlier conversation, about how she'd thought he was a straight-arrow, a level-headed kind of guy, and how he'd assured her that gut instincts were typically best. Her gut instinct was to trust him, that he was a good guy, an honorable man. She knew now that he was a Marine. He had purpose and determination. He wasn't just another aimless, goal-less Buy More drone.

Casey paced, well aware of Ellie's eyes watching him, but he was focused on the conversation he was having with Sarah, as well as watching the room for the first returning medical professionals. "So, you had to tell them I was out of town..."

"They were very persistent in their intent to help you get over your illness."

He groaned. "Remind me not to use the I'm-sick excuse unless it's a mission with everybody. I had no idea it would take on a life of its own."

"Well, we didn't have a lot of time. It's a convenient excuse."

"Apparently, it's more convenient when you don't have a doctor on the team."

"True," she said. "I'm still trying to locate Tate."

"How hard is he to track?"

"He went off-grid when he was let go from the 'Service. He's not used the Tate name since. I've found fractions of aliases, but as soon as he's done with them, he ditches them."

"He's a mercenary. Somebody has to know how to get in touch with him. Someone has to know how to hire him. If he's got this killer reputation, find out who's hired him before. Maybe it's word of mouth."

"Have you seen him again?"

"No, but I've not been back up to review the feed from the room."

"What time are you going back?"

"Last session ends at seven. By the time we get to use an elevator, I imagine it'll be eight."

"I'll radio you about seven fifteen, to make sure you're clear."

"Thanks, Walker."

"How is she handling it?"

"Ellie?" he said, glancing at his charge.

"Yeah."

He shrugged slightly. "Better than expected."

* * *

Chuck stared idly at the customer's fried hard drive. Normally it was easy to do Nerd Herd business, because he would speed through it as quickly as possible to move onto more important spy stuff. With Casey out of town, with Sarah on paperwork detail, with the Intersect mothballed, he felt mildly useless.

"Hey, bro."

He looked up to find Devon, in scrubs, standing on the other side of the desk. "Hey, hey. How was surgery?"

"It was all right. I'm starved, though. Lunch?"

"Wh-I..."

"You have plans with Sarah, don't you? It's all right, maybe I'll just grab something to go," Devon said with a sigh.

"Uh, no, actually, I don't have plans. I just..."

"This conference business is killing me, man. If I'm doing so bad, I wonder how Ellie's doing."

"Have you talked to her?"

"She left me a message while I operating. It was short, there was lots of noise behind her," he said, shrugging. "Said they were keeping her really busy. I tried calling back; it went straight to her voice mail."

"Let's go grab lunch," Chuck said, abandoning the computer. "And if you want to crash at the apartment until Ellie gets back, that's cool, too."

Devon cracked a slight smile. "Really?"

"Totally," Chuck said with a nod.

"That's... that's awesome, bro, thanks."

* * *

As Casey had feared, there was a moment where he couldn't follow her. On the afternoon break between sessions, after two cups of coffee at breakfast and a twenty-ounce diet soda at lunch, Ellie had to go to the bathroom. The break was barely long enough for a pit stop on the main convention floor, let alone a quick trip up to the penthouse and back.

He'd walked her as far as he dared, knowing that the other doctors they'd met along the way were aware that Ellie was married but not to him. It might seem stalker-like or exceedingly strange for him to walk her all the way to the women's room line. So, he'd joined her in a trek to the lobby and milled about.

She looked completely nervous the moment she was walking unattended. He casually lifted his hand, as if to check the time, but pressed the mike button on his watch. "You'll be fine," he said quietly.

"Easy for you to say," she muttered. A dozen horrible scenarios played out in her head.

"If you even remotely feel like you're in trouble, say one word and I'll be there."

"You'll just bust right in? Won't that break your cover?"

He glanced around casually, taking up a spot along the wall, next to a fire alarm. "Not necessarily," he radioed.

"What one word do I need to say?"

He thought about that for a moment. In his business, there was always a code, a seemingly innocuous word that could indicate a multitude of different meanings. He thought about giving her an uncommon word, one not normally used in every day conversation. It would make it easy for him to recognize, but difficult for her to remember if stressed. He remembered the night before, when she had been especially scared, right before he separated her from Tate. "Just say my name. My real name."

She seemed more at ease when she finally disappeared into the crowded women's room.

His eyes continually scanned the area, keeping a watch out for Tate. What concerned Casey the most was if he came back with reinforcements. While there were a few CIA plants in and amongst the hotel staff as of that morning, the agency couldn't spare many on a mission that only tangentially involved the Intersect. They had a valet, a groundskeeper and a nighttime clerk: not many, but every little bit would help.

He wasn't entirely sure what kind of mercenary Tate was. Would he be the kind with friends, the ones who would drop anything to come help him out, for a cut of the fee, naturally, or would he be the kind to burn bridges, to operate as a lone wolf? There were too many variables and entirely too many doctors.

Casey picked up on inane chatter from Ellie's microphone, with women complaining about the length of the line and the scarcity of the stalls. "If you ladies wouldn't travel in packs," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

A few minutes later, he heard Ellie's voice murmuring softly in his ear. "I really appreciate the fact that you're protecting me. I still don't understand why, but I'm so very glad it's someone I know. I think it would've been even scarier if it hadn't been you. Thank you, Colonel."

He hadn't been expecting her heartfelt gratitude. After all, he was just doing was his job. While he received praise from time to time from his superiors, he wasn't used to getting it from a 'civilian.' "You're welcome," he radioed back.

* * *

Sarah was exhausted, rubbing her eyes. They were killing her from looking at the computer screens so much. She had Tate's employment records from the Secret Service, including his psychological evaluations, test scores, and the incidents which led to his being fired. She'd spoken by phone to his former superiors, who found him to be smart and clever, but too maverick for their operation. He was not consistent; he could not be trusted. No one knew how to contact him.

She had also managed to backtrack Tate's movements, using every exterior camera she could find. She started with his leaving the hotel in the middle of the night after the failed kidnapping attempt, but the darkness made that impossible. She was chasing too many shadows and, in general, making her head hurt. When she worked backwards, finding his arrival at the hotel at noon, she discovered he had arrived by cab, which he had picked up at the airport.

The computer was currently compiling a list of all flights that had arrived a half hour before his cab ride, including all passenger manifests. She had the daunting task ahead of her of trying to suss out what Tate's alias might have been for the flight.

The computer was also pulling all cases involving Tate's mercenary work. There wasn't much official to go on. Most references to Tate were unsubstantiated.

She'd give anything to have Chuck's Intersect brain dissect the work in front of her.

* * *

Tate sighed when he watched his target get onto the elevator and ride up after the evening's final session. Several doctors wandered out into the night, to enjoy what the city had to offer. Not his girl.

He watched the tenth floor, expecting them to get off, but they didn't.

He scanned through the other floors and when the elevator stopped on the seventeenth floor, he watched as other people got off, but the agent he had battled with was still standing in the back.

"Moved, did we? Where'd we go?"

Another doctor exited on the eighteenth floor, but his target remained. The doors didn't open on the nineteenth floor at all. At the twentieth floor, the doors opened and the only two occupants walked out. He shook his head as they entered the penthouse suite, officially leaving his camera view.

"Well, that makes things interesting now, doesn't it?"

* * *

Ellie sat on the couch in the living room, cross-legged, watching the muted flat-screen plasma in front of her. She opened her cell phone, calling Devon.

"Hey, there, beautiful," he answered.

She smiled. "Hey, honey."

"How's the conference?"

_Terrifying_. "It's good."

"You making any friends? You aren't spending every waking moment alone, are you?"

She glanced over, catching sight of John through the open door to his bedroom. "No, no, of course not. What about you?"

"I'm actually going to take Chuck up on his offer, stay at the old place till you get back."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He's family, right? And he's missing you, too, so we're just missing you together."

"I'll be home before you know it." She hoped, anyway.

"We can't wait to see you. So, tell me more about the conference. What are you learning? Any awesome hands-on activities?"

"Oh, um... Well, there was a suture demonstration last night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it was, um... It was very realistic." She closed her eyes. She wasn't exactly lying to her husband and she wasn't exactly breaking her vow to Casey. She was just bending the truth, ever so slightly.

"How so?"

"Oh, just, lots of blood... It was like someone had been stabbed." Hearing movement, she watched as Casey stood, crossing to his open door and leaning against the jamb.

"Sounds kind of creepy, actually."

"It really was, but it was... it was all right. Listen, Devon, I'm, um... I'm going to go, but I love you. And give Chuck my love, too."

"Of course, babe. Love you, too. Talk to you soon."

"Night," she said, before ending the call. She looked up at Casey guiltily.

Casey's familiar scowl was back. "I thought we had an arrangement, Doc," he said, emphasizing the last word pointedly.

"What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? I can't tell him nothing."

"My life depends on people not knowing who I am or what I do." Granted, Devon knew, but she wasn't supposed to know the rest of the family was in on the big secret. His primary objective was still to protect the Intersect, and that meant keeping it a secret from Chuck's sister. Protecting Chuck, ensuring Intersect 2.0 worked flawlessly meant protecting Ellie, too. And the minute she knew the truth, the whole truth would be the minute she and Devon were shipped off to witness protection. None of that, however, he could tell her. "If you can't avoid the question, then you're going to have to lie."

"How do you... how do you manage that, lying to the people who mean the most to you?"

"You manage it by remembering that there's a purpose for it. Not just any reason, but the greatest reason. It's for your freedom. My job, no matter what my assignment, is to ensure you have the ability to pursue your individual American dream. You have the freedom to do whatever you want, whenever you want. You don't have to worry about the terrorist across the street, the arms dealer two towns over, or the kidnapper down the hall. I know that it's a terrible, heavy burden, believe me, but it's the greatest one you'll ever know."

"I'm sorry, John; I'll be more careful."

He nodded his head slightly, calming down, until someone knocked at the door.

She watched as he changed, becoming instantly on alert. His hand went to his sidearm and he walked cautiously towards his laptop. "Who is it?" he called out gruffly.

"Room service," called the attendant.

He checked the feed from the security camera outside the door. "Leave it there, thanks, I'll get it in a second."

"Very well," responded the hotel employee, backing into the elevator and going down.

He waited until the elevator was two floors away before grabbing his bug scanner and stepping out into the hallway.

Ellie craned her neck to watch as he scanned the cart for any electronic monitoring devices. When it came up clear, he lifted the lids on both meals, just to make sure there wasn't anything visibly out of the ordinary. Relatively satisfied, he wheeled the cart inside and offered her a rare unguarded smile. "Chow time."

* * *

The paperwork seemed to multiply every time she turned around. Working by herself, without Casey's grunts, without Chuck's incessant chatter, it was enough to drive Sarah moderately batty. She didn't realize how much she missed her team until she was working solo.

She pushed her chair back away from the conference table. Maybe the amassed information would make more sense from a distance, from a different angle.

Rubbing at her forehead, she glanced up when the secret entrance through the freezer at Orange Orange opened. A tall, lanky nerd wandered in, with a bag from his favorite Chinese takeout place. "Chuck," she said, alarmed.

"Hey there, stranger."

Sarah quickly killed the monitors with the feed from Ellie's hotel, both the hotel security as well as the interior footage from the suite she was sharing with Casey, then turned off the speakers. "You aren't supposed to be here right now."

"Devon got called in, emergency endoscopy... or an other-endoscopy... or something." He shrugged. "I dunno. Morgan's breaking bread with Big Mike and Bolonia, so I figured, what the hell? Might as well bring a hard workin' spy some brain food for... Whoa," Chuck said, finally seeing the extent of the paperwork on her table.

She crossed the room, to meet him on the stairs. "You can't be here right now, Chuck."

"We could eat up at the Orange Orange," he suggested.

"I appreciate the offer of dinner, but you really need to go."

"What? Why? What's going on? Does all this have to do with that guy, that Secret Service guy?"

"Turn around, Chuck, please," she said, trying to herd him back into the yogurt shop.

"Maybe I could help. It's kind of... It's kind of boring, right now, actually. I mean, empty house, no Casey across the way, spying, no you wandering in and out. I get why Devon is staying with me till Ellie gets back. I think we're all going stir crazy. Lemme at it, maybe I can flash on something."

"It's not a good idea," Sarah said quietly.

"Why?"

"I shouldn't have even brought you the photo yesterday."

"So? I flashed. I helped. That's my job. There's no need for you to shoulder the world's responsibilities by yourself just because Casey had to bail." His voice softened. "Let me help you, Sarah."

Technically, Beckman said she couldn't _take_ any information to Chuck. Beckman didn't necessarily say anything about Chuck coming _to_ Castle. "All right," she said with a nod. "One second, though, okay? Just, stand right here."

He planted his feet at the door back to the Orange Orange. "Not moving," he assured her.

She descended the stairs again and turned one monitor back on, sending an instant message to Casey's laptop: "Intersect at Castle. Going dark." As soon as she hit enter, she turned the monitor off again.

"All right, Chuck, you're clear."

"So, what's with the cloak and dagger? I mean, why can't I be part of whatever it is you're doing?" he asked as he joined her.

"It's too long a story to explain." Not to mention, the moment she revealed all the secrets, he'd be hopping in a Herder and driving up to San Francisco.

"All right, well... you nosh. I'll take a look at what you've got going on over here," he said, nodding towards the paper-covered conference table.

* * *

Dinner was in companionable silence in San Francisco until there was a beep on the laptop. Casey spotted the message from Sarah and couldn't prevent a groan. It was part frustration, part disappointment.

"Something wrong?" Ellie asked, going from actually eating her meal to picking at it.

"Not here."

"Then... where? Downstairs?" she asked.

There was a hint of fear in her voice which Casey easily detected. "No. We're good."

"I guess I'm just jumpy," she said, rolling a green pea across her plate.

"You're perfectly safe here."

"I realize, I just..." She hadn't been perfectly safe the night before. Well, technically, maybe she had, because Casey had been there, but it didn't prevent her from freaking out at the drop of a hat.

Casey chewed slowly on a bite of his steak, watching her. He'd seen her in various states of panic before, enough to know that her calm center was as damaged as his. He doubted seriously that she'd ever admit to it, but it was true. When things were going well, she was fine. When things deviated from her plans, when things took turns for the worse, her calm exterior was gone. He'd heard her go off before, on Devon, Chuck, Morgan, or whoever else happened to be around.

He vividly remembered Morgan grousing that she'd thrown away perfectly good turkeys one Thanksgiving, while trying to perfect her recipe for Devon's "very awesome" parents.

It made sense why. She and Chuck had been abandoned young. Ellie was thrust, head first, into being a responsible adult at an age when she still was trying to figure out who she was and where she was going. It would be enough to mess with anyone's coping skills. It was a testament to the unstoppable force that was Eleanor Fay (Bartowski) Woodcomb that she was as level-headed as she was.

"Rationally, I understand that," she said, poking at a slice of chicken. "Irrationally, I feel like I should be hiding under the bed or in the closet."

Casey abandoned his dinner, leaning towards her slightly. "I understand that this is foreign to you, that this is a different kind of situation than anything else you've been in."

She glanced up at him.

"This isn't something foreign to me, though," Casey told her. "Y'know, my profession isn't that different from yours. People come to you when there's something wrong, when they're scared. They trust you to figure out what it is and tell them how to fix it. You've been trained, you have years of experience in medicine. You're the expert." Off her nod, he continued. "I've got twenty years in this business. I know what I'm doing. Here, I'm the expert."

"I don't know how to turn off the fear," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to turn it off. You just need to learn how to channel it, how to use it."

"I don't know how," she repeated.

"Like everything else, the key is moderation."

She looked at him, still puzzled.

"You have emotions, not the other way around. You can't dwell on it. Fear can teach you how to stay vigilant, how to stay alert."

"How do you not dwell, though? I keep dwelling." She sounded on the verge of panic again.

"Ellie... take a deep breath."

She took a quick, shallow breath.

He narrowed his eyes, knowing she could do better.

Feeling his disappointment, she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, through her nose before letting it back out through her mouth slowly.

"What makes you happy?" he asked.

She opened one eye, followed by the other, confused. "What?"

"Gut reaction, one, two word answer. What makes you happy?"

She closed her eyes again, taking another deep breath. "Baking," she murmured as she exhaled. She'd give anything to be home, in her kitchen, putting the finishing touches on an exquisite pecan pie.

"Next time you start to get scared, when you think it's about to take over everything, I want you to think about the steps, the process of baking something. Where do you buy the ingredients? Where do you store them? Where do you keep your measuring cups, your baking sheets? What do you do first, second, and third?"

"Mind over matter?"

"It's a start," he told her.

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

She stopped at the end of the hall, where it joined with another. "Right or left?" she asked her watch. She expected the answer to be immediate, but time ticked by. "Are you there? Which way do I go, right or left?" The seconds seemed to stretch on longer and longer. "John? I don't know where I'm going. Right or left?"

A different voice rang in her ears. "So sorry, Johnny's not home right now."

Petrifying fear consumed her as she recognized the voice as her would-be kidnapper. A hand fell heavily on her shoulder and she turned, looking into the glassy eyes of her protector. She struggled to remain standing as Casey, covered in thick, sticky blood, collapsed against her. "John? John!"


	6. Chapter 6

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Chuck invites Devon over until Ellie gets back from her conference. Sarah, desperate for help, welcomes Chuck into Castle even though her orders are clear to keep the Intersect as far away from the current mission as possible. Tate notes that his job has gotten more difficult when he sees that Casey has moved Ellie to the penthouse. Ellie is grateful that Casey is the one protecting her, though she admits that she's scared. Casey, going above and beyond the normal call of duty, attempts to help her settle her nerves.

* * *

He sat with his Converse sneakers propped up on the conference table, a file folder on his lap. "I have to say, it's kind of weird to have a darkened Castle," he said, glancing at the black monitors.

Sarah caught a piece of shrimp with her chopsticks. "What I was monitoring is classified."

"We're still playing that game?" Chuck asked, moderately annoyed. "I haven't proven that I'm a real spy yet?"

"You've been a real spy since you became the Intersect."

"But, I'm on this strange 'weekend' off. And Casey's off who knows where. And you're... you're looking into this Secret Service dropout. It just seems like I'm getting the runaround and I'm not sure why."

Sarah chewed, pondering her response. "It's not a runaround, Chuck."

"What would you call it?" he asked, looking over at her.

"Orders."

"So, Beckman ordered it? I'm under orders not to know what's going on?"

"Like everything else, whoever is higher up on the food chain gets to make the judgment call. If the General wants something done a certain way, I'm sure it's because she had a good reason." Just as Sarah had a good reason for involving Chuck in the drudgery of the paperwork.

Chuck closed the file he'd been looking at and tossed it on the conference table, picking up another one. "I just feel like I'm not trusted," he lamented.

"I trust you."

He offered her a half smile. "Thanks, Sarah. I mean, I know Intersect 2.0 is a little twitchy, but there's no reason I can't sit here and help you with this. If the screens are related to the paperwork, there's no reason I can't see what's going on. For all we know, the key to a flash might be up there. I guess my question is: why not use every advantage? Why tie the team's hands? I mean, Casey taking time off, for whatever reason, that's something unavoidable, but the General could let me in on this, whatever _it_ is."

"Just keep looking at the paperwork, Chuck," she said quietly.

He sighed, flipping through that file. He was about to say something when his eyes unfocused and started to glaze over. "Siren17."

"What?"

"Siren17," he said. "It's a screen name for a hacker by the name of Rebecca Waters."

"Someone who's worked with Tate?"

"I'd call her an ally, sure."

"Where can I find her?"

"She's doing a eight to ten in certain California penitentiary. Same one where Jill was held."

"She's local?" Off Chuck's shrug, she put the chopsticks in the top of the cardboard container. "You need to go 'cause I've got to brief the General and arrange a face-to-face with this Siren."

* * *

She still didn't understand why Casey had to leave her alone as she inched along the hallway, tiptoeing as lightly as she could. He'd promised to never be farther away than a whisper but it wasn't much of a consolation at that moment. Every few feet, she heard his voice in her ear, offering reassuring encouragement.

"Just a little further."

"Only a couple more steps."

"You're almost there."

"Keep going."

She stopped at the end of the hall, where it joined with another. "Right or left?" she asked her watch. She expected the answer to be immediate, but time ticked by. "Are you there? Which way do I go?" The seconds seemed to stretch on longer and longer. "John? I don't know where I'm going. Right or left?"

A different voice rang in her ears. "So sorry, Johnny's not home right now."

Petrifying fear consumed her as she recognized the voice as her would-be kidnapper. A hand fell heavily on her shoulder and she turned, looking into the glassy, now dead eyes of her protector. She struggled to remain standing as Casey, covered in thick, sticky blood, collapsed against her. "John? John!"

* * *

He sat bolt upright hearing her scream his name in earth-shattering, ear-splitting fear. Grabbing his gun from the nightstand, he was out of his room and into hers in less than four seconds, fully prepared to take out whoever or whatever might be in the room with her.

But, there was no one else in her bedroom, no one in the living room. It had been Ellie's voice to wake him, not the perimeter alarms. When he looked back at her, she was sitting up in bed, her hands covering her face. "Ellie?" He wasn't sure, but he was fairly certain she was crying.

Crying women were not something he was entirely capable of dealing with. They didn't have that class in clandestine services training. It wasn't covered at Basic either.

He placed his gun on her nightstand and reached out, hesitantly touching her shoulder. "Ellie, it's okay."

She lowered her trembling hands, putting both of them on his arm, and looked at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She looked exhausted.

He wasn't entirely sure what to do. The way she seemed to barely respond to his earlier comment, he guessed it was the wrong thing to say. Clearing his throat, he took a step back, removing his hand from her and effectively removing her hands from him as well. He grabbed a chair and slid it towards her bed before sitting. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So, my mother has a closely guarded blue-ribbon peanut butter cookie recipe. It's top-secret."

She tilted her head slightly, curiously.

"I've been threatened, under penalty of death, to never utter to another soul how to make them." He heard her whimper, though he wasn't sure why. "I think she wouldn't mind, in this situation, if I shared it with you."

* * *

The yell tore though the otherwise silent Castle, waking Sarah instantly. She rushed to the computer bank, checking all of the camera angles from the San Francisco hotel. There was no one outside the penthouse. There was no one on the roof or in the stairwells. It was three o'clock in the morning; the hotel was mostly dead.

She ran the video feed from Ellie's room back. She watched as Ellie tossed and turned beneath the covers before she cried out for Casey. Easing to sit down, she turned the cameras back to live, yawning. She had a feeling her partner might need her assistance to try to calm Ellie back down.

Her partner was many things, but she wasn't completely sure "sympathetic" or "caring" were in his repertoire. Her hand hovered over the microphone button, fully prepared to give Casey tips from L.A. When she realized that he was talking about beating eggs in a stand mixer, she was puzzled. It was clear, however, from the live video, that he had Ellie's rapt attention.

The doctor was sitting up in bed, holding a pillow to her chest, listening attentively as Casey talked about adding butter and flour.

Sarah was thoroughly impressed when Ellie began to calm down.

* * *

After another Guy's Night with Devon and Morgan, Chuck was ready to face the Buy More. It was actually kind of fun, hanging out with his brother-in-law. While he missed Ellie, and her husband would never be a replacement for her, Devon wasn't bad for a temporary stand-in.

He was ready to turn himself around and walk back out of the store, however, when he saw Lester and Jeff stalking around the sales floor near the Nerd Herd desk. Instead of the sunglasses and fedoras from yesterday, they were armed with some of the spy toys available for sale there at the store. "Really?" he asked, watching as Lester rolled into the DVD aisle, his night-vision goggles secured over his eyes.

Jeff tiptoed behind Chuck and whispered: "Your call sign is Chicken Liver."

Chuck turned, looking at his coworker. "Come again?"

"I'm Caesar. Lester is Czar."

"Jeff, this is really starting to move past silly to full-on ridiculous," Chuck said with a sigh.

"Caesar!" he corrected harshly before sliding behind a microwave display.

Chuck merely sighed as he moved towards the Nerd Herd desk. He looked up at the exasperated assistant manager who was approaching him.

"Can you do anything with Thing One and Thing Two?" Morgan asked, leaning against the desk.

"I think those are more fitting than the names they chose for themselves."

"Know what mine is?"

"I'm afraid to ask, buddy," Chuck admitted, taking a seat.

"Clementine. I don't even get a dude's code name. I get a weird folk song about a girl."

"And, technically, a fruit," Chuck added.

"Not helping, Chuck. This has gone on for far too long." He stood a little straighter, squaring his shoulders. "I'm going to put a stop to it."

"Any ideas on how?"

"I was kinda hoping you had that part figured out," Morgan admitted.

Chuck exhaled. "Y'know what? They wanna be spies, give 'em a mission. But, the gear they're wearing, they're sticking out like sore thumbs. They're totally breaking cover."

"You sound so authoritative on this spy stuff," said Morgan.

He shrugged. "Sarah's got this James Bond affinity. I don't pretend to understand," he said, fibbing. "Anyway, tell 'em to lose the gear and wait for further communication. And... let Clementine go for the time being."

Morgan groused. "We'll try it your way." Taking a breath, he found Lester squished between two refrigerators in the housewares section. Morgan slid along the aisle, stopping at the stainless steel model to the right of the "spy." He played with the buttons on the ice maker for a moment, then spoke cryptically. "You really wanna do this, Czar? Stow the gear till dark. We'll rendezvous for a full briefing at fifteen-hundred. Clementine out."

Lester slowly slid his night vision goggles up and peeked out from his hiding spot. "Roger that." He grabbed the walkie-talkie from his pants pocket and lifted it to his mouth, pressing the talk button. "Caesar. Go covert till fifteen hundred."

A moment later, the radio crackled to life: "Five-by-five."

* * *

Sarah sat down on the other side of the glass from Rebecca Waters, also known as Siren17. The petite redhead looked like a shadow of her former self. After Chuck had flashed, Sarah had been able to bring up more information on the hacker, including her booking photo. Several years ago, she'd been a pretty, lithe dancer type. Clearly prison didn't agree with her, as she was now gaunt, her blue eyes sunken and dark, her hair stringy and limp.

Nodding towards the prisoner, Sarah picked up the telephone on her side of the visitation room. Slowly, Rebecca did the same.

"Ms. Waters, I'm a federal agent. I need to ask you some questions about Quinn Tate."

She snickered. "Quinn? Wha'cha wanna know?"

"What can you tell me?"

Rebecca played with the spiral phone cord. "Not much."

"How do you get in touch with him?"

"I haven't talked to Quinn, no, not for a long time. Not for years. Not since I wound up here."

"I understand that you were an informant for him, when he worked for the Secret Service. Is that correct?"

She hesitated. "I haven't talked to him."

"But you used to?"

She slowly nodded.

"When did you talk to him last?"

She exhaled, closing her eyes. "Gosh, I... September? It was fall, 2004. I got picked up right before Thanksgiving."

"How did you contact him, when you wanted to talk to him?"

"It was easy, I..." She stopped quickly, looking at Sarah distrustfully. "Wait."

"What?"

"Why do you want to know about Quinn?"

"I just need some information, Ms. Waters."

"Quinn was a good guy. He was."

"He's not anymore?" Sarah asked slowly, realizing that the years of confinement were definitely unkind to Rebecca.

"He became bad. Very bad. Scary bad."

"How so?"

"Angry, violent. Like a dog with a bone, once he started something, he couldn't walk away. He can never walk away."

Sarah wasn't sure if that was good news for them or not. It meant Tate wouldn't stop going after Ellie, but it might provide them the opportunity to catch him. "What does he know about computers?"

"Computers?"

Sarah nodded.

Rebecca puffed up. "Taught him everything I know. Everything I knew... I don't know much anymore. They don't let me near them in here," she said, looking distrustfully towards the guards.

"Was he a good student?"

"The best. Soaked it all up, like a sponge. When he was out of the 'Service, when he was on his own, he needed to be able to cover his tracks. So, that's what I did. I taught him that."

"That's how you ended up in here, wasn't it?" Sarah asked.

Rebecca didn't answer.

Sarah knew it was the truth. He'd covered his tracks so well, he'd framed his former teacher, inadvertently or not, and she'd wound up in prison. "Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything that might help me catch him?"

"Catch Quinn? You can't catch Quinn."

"Why can't I?"

"Because. He's too smart for that. Too smart for a lot of things. Too smart to get caught. You're a government agent, he was a government agent. He knows how you think."

"He's a criminal, too. I get paid to know how criminals think."

"He's a murderer," Rebecca corrected. "His brain is twisted; it's backwards."

Sarah thought about Casey on assignment with Ellie. Perhaps it was best he was there, in the closest possible proximity to Tate because Casey was an assassin. He knew how killers thought. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Waters." She hung up the phone and turned to leave. If Siren17 had taught him everything, he might have similar signatures; he might be easier to locate.

* * *

Ellie sat quietly at the conference. The day before, she'd been more concerned about taking notes. This day, she just wanted to survive. If she made it through the day, through the next twenty-four hours, it meant she'd be going home soon. It meant she could sleep in Devon's arms. It meant she could get back to some sort of semblance of normalcy.

One glance at her protector sitting to her left, however, made her realize that she probably wouldn't be able to leave behind the madness in San Francisco. She had a feeling it was going to follow her all the way back to Echo Park.

When that realization hit, she let her head fall onto the table.

Casey, and a few other doctors, looked over at her.

She slowly lifted her head, a little embarrassed at the attention that caused. She smiled politely at the doctors around her, running her fingers self-consciously through her long dark hair.

Casey took the moment to look at her, really look at her. Her eyes were still puffy from the night before, but she'd covered the dark circles beneath them with concealer, and the redness had been combated with eye drops. On the surface, on a quick glance, she seemed fine. But, Casey could see past it, to the bone-weariness that plagued her.

She was no spy. She wasn't used to the constant threats.

Before he could finish his assessment, before he could remind her that she was there to participate in a conference, that she needed, at least, to pretend to pay attention to the current speaker, the building rumbled with a thunderous explosion.

The conference hall feel eerily silent for a split second afterward.

The cacophony of sounds that followed was nearly deafening, between screams and the blaring fire alarms. The speaker at the head of the room tried to calm the participants, but everyone frantically moved towards the exits.

Casey grabbed Ellie and pulled her along with him as they followed the mass exodus towards the lobby. "Status report," he said into his watch. "What the hell was that?"

"What's going on?" she asked, latching onto his hand, holding it tightly. "John?"

After the first night, the CIA spared three agents to assist with Casey's mission. One worked the night shift, but two were currently on duty, one as a valet, one as groundskeeper. While Casey's earpiece was linked to all radios, the only one Ellie could hear was his.

"Sounds like it came from around back," reported the valet, Agent Alan Parker.

"Smoke at the back entrance," said Agent Gretchen Eddington, the gardener.

Casey made a quick decision. "Going out front with the crowd. Keep your eyes peeled at service entrances," he radioed.

"John?" Ellie tried again as he practically dragged her into the dead center of the group of exiting conference attendees.

"You're going to be just fine, Ellie," he promised.

They were swept away with the tide that emptied into the street. Between the snarled traffic, honking horns, and distant sirens approaching, the scene was utter chaos.

Ellie's knuckles were white, she was holding onto Casey so tightly. She watched him, how he seemed not to care that there were cars still trying to navigate the streets surrounding the hotel, or that there were other people around them, all pushing and shoving and panicking. His eyes were trained above them, on the rooftops, on the sky. If she weren't freaking out herself, she might've understood why. As it was, she was too scared to think clearly.

"Visual on sharpshooter," radioed Eddington. "On adjacent parking garage, top level."

Casey pried his hand away from Ellie's death grip. "Gimme your earpiece. And call Devon," he told her.

"Wh-what?"

"Earpiece!" He didn't want her to have to hear any orders he may have to give. As she scrambled to remove it, he continued. "Call Devon. Tell him you're fine."

She dropped the tiny earpiece into his hand. "John--"

"Ellie, call Devon now," he said sternly.

She nodded, fumbling for her cell phone.

While Casey took a few steps away from Ellie, she was never out of his sight. "Do you have a shot, Eddington?"

"Negative," she radioed back.

"Get one," he told her through clenched teeth. "Walker, are you with us?"

"I'm here," Sarah radioed. While Eddington and Parker had been scoping out the hotel and Casey had been getting Ellie to safety, Sarah had been reviewing the footage, to see what they'd missed. "The explosion came from just inside the back entrance. My money's on a small C-4 charge."

"Just enough to get us out in the open," Casey radioed. "Get on the horn to the local authorities. I do not want the details getting out about what's going on up here."

"On it," said Sarah.

* * *

Tate realized the longer he sat there, the less likely his mark was going to be wandering out the service entrance. He knew it was standard procedure for the Secret Service to use service entrances. He assumed it would be the choice of his mark and her protector. No one darkened the door at all.

He was willing to give them a few more seconds until he spotted the gardener looking his direction. What was worse, the gardener was speaking into her watch.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. He didn't pull back immediately. He knew it was better to let her think she had the upper hand. It would give him a definite advantage. He watched as the gardener pulled a gun from the planting cart and dash towards the parking garage. Once he assumed she was no longer looking at him, he pulled his rifle back and swiftly broke it down into more manageable pieces and threw them into a duffel bag and shouldered it.

He could only assume, given the fact that there was more than one protector, that there could easily be more than two. He imagined the mark might've required a full complement of agents after his initial botched kidnapping. Weighing his options, he chose to leave by foot. He ducked down behind vehicles, keeping a watchful eye for any other agents looking for him.

He rushed as fast as he could, as carefully as he could, but, most importantly, as quietly as he could. He tried to control his breathing and the sound his feet made on the concrete.

When he heard boots clatter up the ramp, he slid behind a Cadillac, crouching down by the front driver's side wheel. He had a hard time remaining balanced on the balls of his feet, given the weight of the bag he had on his right shoulder. When he nearly toppled backwards, he grabbed onto the wheel well of the Cadillac. In the process, the bag slipped, hitting the ground.

The thud was enough to make the agent on his level turn towards the sound.

Feeling the pressure, Tate tried to make a break for it, adjusting the bag on his shoulder as he ran.

Eddington fired two shots, one hitting a Pontiac, the other grazing Tate's arm and the duffel bag strap.

The handle tore and the bag fell. Tate started to turn back to get it, thought better of it, and sprinted free of the dead weight.

By the time Eddington had collected the bag and struggled to catch up to Tate, he was gone, lost in the crowd of doctors milling about.

* * *

Ellie sighed as she heard her husband's voice. It wasn't a happy sigh because he wasn't actually talking to her. She was listening to Devon's voice mail. When she heard the familiar beep, she placed her hand on her head. "Hey, sweetie, it's me. It's... I'm fine. No matter what you hear about the hotel up here, I'm fine. I don't know what happened, but they evacuated everybody and I'm fine. I just... It was scary and I love you. But, I'm fine," she said again. "Call me when you get this, okay?"

She hung up, looking at Casey.

His face was grim. She wasn't sure what that meant, but she had a feeling it didn't mean anything good. She took a step towards him, but he held up his hand, keeping her in place.

Biting her lower lip, she lifted her phone again and dialed another number. She listened to the rings impatiently.

"Hey, Ellie!" Chuck said happily.

"Chuck! Oh, Chuck, thank God."

"Ellie? What's going on?" Chuck could hear the panic in her voice. He'd recognize that tone anywhere.

"I'm fine. It's... I don't know what happened. Something at the hotel, but I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"It's just... It's just scary, and I tried to call Devon, but he didn't answer his phone."

"Yeah, he said something about an angioplasty today," Chuck said, trying to remember the details but failing miserably. "At least, I think..."

"Would you please tell him to call me when he gets through?"

"If you left him a message, El, I'm sure he'll call you as soon as he can. He's been like a lost puppy without you. He even cleaned my apartment yesterday morning. While that's nice, it's kind of creepy."

She smiled. Hearing her darling little brother ramble was the greatest sound in the world at that very moment. "Oh?"

"Oh, yeah," Chuck told her.

She wasn't fully aware of what he said over the next ten minutes. She was just so glad to hear him that she let him prattle on as long as he would, uninterrupted. Every now and then a word or two would reach the surface of her mind. "Video game," "Morgan," "Blues Brothers," and "cottage cheese." She didn't want to know what any of those things had to do with each other. The fact that Chuck was talking about them was all she needed to know.

Because, Chuck was normal. Chuck didn't have to worry about the NSA protecting him. Chuck didn't have to worry about being the target of someone with a gun, about almost being kidnapped, about whatever it was that had just happened at the hotel, because that was probably about her, too.

"I love you, Chuck," she said suddenly. "You know that, right?"

"Sis, that is the one thing in this world I am most certain of," he told her. "And I love you, too."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"Chuck, I'm sure your sister is fine. If the authorities are reporting that it was an accident, what makes you think it might be something else?" asked Sarah.

"Gee, I dunno," he began, "maybe working the past three years with the CIA and the NSA?"

"You're really starting to get paranoid, aren't you?"

"I'm just worried about Ellie," he told her. "There's nothing you can tell me?"

"I'll look into it, but I'm sure it was just an accident. Accidents do happen, you know."


	7. Chapter 7

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Chuck flashes on a hacker named Siren17 as a former compatriot of Tate's. In the night, Ellie has a terrible, terrifying nightmare, waking both Casey and Sarah. Casey helps calm her down. Sarah meets with Siren17 and learns that she taught Tate everything he knows about computers. Tate, in an attempt to draw Ellie and Casey out, sets off an explosion at the hotel. Casey doesn't follow normal "Secret Service-style" protocols and the CIA team is able to locate Tate. In his attempt to get away, Tate catches a glancing bullet off his arm, losing his bag.

* * *

Casey was pissed. What did Eddington mean, he got away? If he'd been there, instead of with Ellie, Tate wouldn't have gotten away, not again. He wouldn't have wasted time trying to talk to him or to bring him in. He would've shot and killed the man without a moment's hesitation. He'd _told_ Eddington to make the shot.

"I've got his bag, though. Modified Barrett M82 sniper rifle," Eddington reported.

Casey realized the gun had been meant for him. It wouldn't have just killed him; they would've decimated him. With him in pieces, Ellie would've panicked and Tate could've easily picked her up.

"Also got a Ring phone," Eddington added.

Sarah quickly jumped into the conversation. "Can you get that couriered down to me? With the phone, I might be able to backtrack which Ring cell we're dealing with, where Tate found out about Ellie."

"Eddington, make arrangements through your local office to get it down to L.A."

"Yes, sir," she radioed.

"Where are we with the local police?" asked Casey.

Parker's voice came over the radio next. "I'm talking with the officer in charge at the moment. We're going to get the building cleared in the next twenty minutes. It'll be deemed an accidental kitchen fire. No harm, no foul."

"Roger that," Casey said with a sigh. "Keep me posted, Walker."

"No problem," Sarah responded.

Casey slowly approached Ellie, as she was hanging up her phone.

She looked up at him for a moment, waiting for him to speak first. When he didn't, her curiosity got the better of her. "What was that?"

He sighed. "An accidental kitchen fire."

"Is that really what happened?"

"It'll be over soon, Ellie. They should let us back inside in about twenty minutes."

"Is it safe out here, in the meantime? In the open?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" he asked.

"I dunno," she said, glancing down at the asphalt between them.

Casey reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear all the while sliding her receiver back in place. "Just an accidental kitchen fire," he repeated.

* * *

Devon had finally gotten through with his surgery and was stretching out his sore muscles. He needed a drink, maybe a snack. He wandered into the doctor's lounge, snagging a paper cup for the water cooler. As he was filling it, he looked up at the television set.

He frowned when he realized there was a breaking news report. More unsettling was the location: San Francisco. He dropped the practically full cup as he saw the sign for the San Francisco Grand Hotel.

"Oh, God, Ellie," he whispered. He juggled the contents of his lab coat pocket, finding his cell phone, which had been turned off during the procedure. "Pick up, babe, pick up," he muttered, over and over again.

One ring, two rings. "Devon?"

"Ellie! Ellie, are you all right? What happened, the TV said there was an explosion..."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly sure," she said.

"What happened?"

"Apparently there was a fire in the kitchen."

"You wanna come home? Call it a trip? I'm sure the hospital would understand."

"It wasn't a bomb or a terrorist attack. It was just an old Jenn-Air that had roasted its last duck. I'm fine."

"If you won't come home, I'll come up. I'll take a vacation day, I can be up there in a couple hours, in time to curl up in bed with you."

"I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. It's silly for you to drive all the way up here, then for us to caravan back to L.A."

Devon sighed heavily. "You're sure you'll be all right?"

She was sure Casey would take care of her. "I promise."

"If you're absolutely sure..."

"Devon!"

"All right, all right. Just... be careful, would you?"

"I will," she assured him.

* * *

Chuck took two steps towards the Nerd Herd desk when he stopped suddenly. Jeff and Lester were in full haz-mat suits. Chuck gave a long-suffering sigh. He realized that it was one of Casey's, a number seventeen. The big guy, even in his absence, was rubbing off on him. Squaring his shoulders, he asked himself: What would Casey do?

He strolled over towards the Nerd Herd desk and attempted to crack his knuckles. Instead of a resounding, intimidating sound, it was nearly silent. Casey wouldn't let it get him down; he'd continue to barrel through. "Patel," Chuck said gruffly, in his best Casey imitation. "Barnes."

"Bartowski," Lester returned, sounding somewhat like Darth Vader.

Realizing even Casey couldn't compete with the ultimate celluloid bad guy, he returned to his own voice. "What's with the suits?"

"We can only assume that Morgan has fallen to the vile disease spread by John Casey. It's currently ten minutes until sixteen hundred. He never showed to provide us with our mission. We've moved to def-con blue."

Chuck wanted to tell him that the def-con system didn't go by colors, but thought the better of it. "Well, Morgan's fine, his shift ended today at two thirty. And, you're scaring away the customers," Chuck said, looking around. The few brave patrons were as far away from the Nerd Herd as possible.

"They need to be scared," Jeff said. "They don't understand the power of the flu germ!" He raised a gloved fist.

Where was his lightsaber when he needed it? "Either ditch the suits or go home."

"Who are you to order us?" asked Lester. "We are protecting ourselves from the biological super weapon--"

Chuck shook his head. "Lester, seriously. Casey's protecting _you_ from the threat. You're not protecting yourselves or anyone else." Chuck wanted to tell them that Casey wasn't actually sick, that they were in those ridiculous outfits for nothing, but that might cause more questions, none of which he wanted to answer.

Lester narrowed his eyes at Chuck. "Do you or do you not live in the same apartment building as Patient X?"

"And you don't see me hacking or sneezing or feverish, do you?"

Jeff moved closer to Chuck, to examine him. He went so far as to place a gloved hand on Chuck's forehead. "He feels normal."

Chuck wanted to ask: _Do you even know what normal is_? But, he knew that answer to be a resounding _no_.

Lester seemed to weigh his options. "Are you in a position to make a deal?"

Chuck sighed. "I guess?"

Lester seemed to acknowledge that that was as good as he was going to get. "Can we hold Patient X personally responsible for any of our unpaid medical expenses?"

"Only if you wind up sick with H1N1 tomorrow. Otherwise, you're going to have to let Casey off the hook."

Lester and Jeff exchanged glances, and Jeff went so far as to shrug.

"Very well, Bartowski," Lester said. "If we do not wind up sick by twenty-four hundred... zero-hundred? Whichever! If we aren't sick then, we will release John Casey from any liability with our non-sickness."

"Awesome," Chuck muttered as Lester and Jeff headed for the break room to remove the protective gear.

* * *

Ellie watched her protector pace as she finished her dinner. She wasn't entirely sure what was being said but it was clear that the vein in Casey's jaw was getting a serious workout. He'd walk a few paces, grunt some response, turn and pace back towards her, the whole time the vein throbbing in his jaw, before turning around, pacing further, and continuing to grunt something so quiet she could barely hear it.

Whatever it was, she knew it was bad, and that made her increasingly nervous. She played with her wedding and engagement rings. She picked at her nails. When none of her fidgeting seemed to be helping, she remembered what Casey had suggested, and closed her eyes, mentally trying to retrace every step required to make the peanut butter cookies he'd talked about in the middle of the night.

Casey looked up to see his protectee seemingly meditating. He figured it was better than her freaking out.

With a sigh, he listened as Sarah continued her brief. She'd had time to analyze the phone and meet with a former associate of Tate's. She'd been able to decrypt his electronic signatures based off Siren17's hacking patterns. While that was great, it was the time that it took for her to compile all the information that had been disconcerting. Something just didn't ring true. "You went to Chuck, didn't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's how you knew Tate from the security footage so quickly."

Sarah sighed. "Casey, I had to. There was too much. With you there, with Shaw in D.C., I had to have some help."

"Our orders were clear," he said through clenched teeth.

"With Chuck's help analyzing the phone, I was able to trace the cell signature to Westside Medical. When I ran the security footage back, he followed Chuck into the hospital. He followed Chuck in, where he met Ellie, where Ellie introduced him to some new staff member as her brother."

"Why not take them then? It would've been a perfect opportunity."

"I don't know. Too many witnesses? Too many variables?"

Whatever the reason, clearly he'd let them both go at the time. "We know he's a mercenary. Who hired him? He's got a Ring phone, which cell is it from?"

"I'm still trying to backtrack that." Technically, Chuck was running it through a diagnostic at the Buy More stock room.

Casey's voice was harsh: "Get it done," he said, before terminating the call.

Ellie looked up when she heard the phone click closed. She hesitated only a moment before asking: "It wasn't an oven, was it?"

"It was," he said, his voice still tense.

"Did the bad guy, did he plant the explosive in it?"

"Ellie, stop."

"He did, didn't he? That's why we were safe on the street, because he was inside the hotel, looking for me--"

"Ellie, enough!" he snapped. "The explosion was the gas oven in the kitchen. It was not caused by a person. It wasn't arson. It was an accident, that's _all_." His voice was harsh, almost cruel-sounding.

She fell deathly silent at his outburst.

He'd always tried to keep that side of him from her, the kick-ass NSA agent side. He'd always been as polite as possible, as respectful as possible. While he had no qualms snapping at Chuck or Sarah, he had always tried to keep his attitude towards her kept to a minimum. He took a deep breath, calming down again. "We were safe on the street because we were in the middle of the crowd," he explained, much gentler. "He won't try to take you when you're surrounded; he's proved that."

She merely nodded.

"Tomorrow, lunchtime, you'll be going home," Casey told her. "Everything will be back to normal."

"Will I be safe at home? I mean, if the guy knew how to find me here, wouldn't whoever know how to find me at home?"

"The apartment complex is secure," he promised. "Besides, I'm still your neighbor there, too."

She smiled a little, idly playing with the watch he'd given her.

He watched her for a moment. "We can adjust it, if you want. I can have the radio removed and update the GPS transmitter. It can lay dormant, until you need assistance or I need to find you."

"You can do that?"

He nodded.

She offered him another slight smile, before looking down at the watch again. "I know this might be asking a lot," Ellie began slowly, "but is there anyway that Chuck and Devon can have them, too? I mean, if someone's after me, they might get their wires crossed, they might go after my brother or my husband..."

_If only she knew_, he thought. "Consider it done." Technically, it was.

* * *

Chuck lingered at the top of the stairs into the Castle. "So, what's the pass code for today? Red light/green light? Red Rover, Red Rover, send Chuck right over?"

Sarah glanced up from where she sat at the computer terminal, killing the monitors again. "It's still really not a good time, Chuck."

"I won't stay long. I've got the call log figured out on the phone. And, I wanted to ask you something." He started to take the first step down, but hesitated. "Mother, may I?"

She rolled her eyes, motioning him down.

Chuck offered a faint grin, but she could tell it was missing his usual warmth.

"What's up?" she asked, accepting the phone with the decoded contacts and telephone numbers.

"Ellie called earlier today, about an incident at the hotel she's staying at."

Sarah had to remember she wasn't supposed to know anything about it. "Oh? What kind of incident?"

"An explosion. It's been all over the news as an accident. I just can't help but wonder..." He drifted off, hoping Sarah would catch his drift.

"Chuck, I'm sure your sister is fine. If the authorities are reporting that it was an accident, what makes you think it might be something else?"

"Gee, I dunno," he began, "maybe working the past three years with the CIA and the NSA?"

"You're really starting to get paranoid, aren't you?"

"I'm just worried about Ellie," he told her. "There's nothing you can tell me?"

"I'll look into it, but I'm sure it was just an accident. Accidents do happen, you know."

"I know. They just don't seem to happen to my family. I mean, I thought getting Bryce's e-mail was a fluke, y'know? Turns out he was a spy, that my brain was already prepared to take it. Not so much a coincidence, was it? What's even crazier is that it turns out my father created and tested the Intersect technology. I guess, what I'm trying to say is, you can't call it paranoia when there really are people out to get you," he said with a half-shrug.

"I'll look into it, Chuck, I promise, but I need you to scoot. I'm already in a bit of hot water for letting you in on this mission when it was supposed to be me."

Chuck puffed up. "I'll talk to Shaw, whenever he gets back from wherever he is."

She shook her head. "Just... let it go, Chuck. It'll be fine."

"My sister...?"

She offered him a soft smile. "I'll make some calls, see what's going on, then I'll call you, all right?"

"You're the best, Sarah."

* * *

He straightened his jumpsuit as he circled slowly around the building, remembering how he'd gotten the outfit. It had been sloppy and messy, but it had to be done. He was running out of time and he was certain that the Ring cell he was working for was more concerned about the ends than the means.

Tate lingered at a side entrance, the one he'd been expecting Ellie and her guard to emerge from earlier that day. He slid a card key attached to a descrambler into the lock. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, watching the numbers tick down until the proper sequence had been decoded. When the red light turned green, he let himself in.

He put the card key and descrambler into his pocket, hoisting his heavy toolbox and wandering into the hotel.

* * *

Casey watched as Ellie listlessly flipped through the channels. Nothing held her interest. Nothing seemed to matter.

He hated the hurry-up-and-wait of his job. After the adrenaline of the night before, of the afternoon, the downtime at the moment was killing him. And he definitely hated being a babysitter. The fact that his orders were to sit quietly and watch a grown woman were mildly infuriating. He'd rather be part of the strike team that was currently searching the city to find Tate.

Sarah had been able to triangulate a few possible locations where the soldier-for-hire might've been staying, thanks to the phone records and the web signatures. A trained CIA strike-team was in the process of determining if the analysis was any good.

Casey wanted to be there, busting in the doors, shooting at the bad guys. He didn't want to watch Ellie click past endless reruns.

He'd considered leaving Ellie with one of the other CIA agents on site, but the General's orders earlier that afternoon, after the bombing, had been very specific. Casey was not to leave her side, not for one second.

"Anything?" he quietly asked his phone

"Three locations down, still nothing," Sarah told him.

"Nothing, as in there's nothing there? Or nothing as in he's just not there at the moment?"

"First two locations, he'd hacked the residents' wireless internet, borrowing their IP addresses. Third was an empty warehouse. Not sure what he was doing there, maybe picking up something? Maybe meeting someone? There are two other locations; the team is on their way now."

"We don't have much time left. I figure he's got to make another move before the conference is actually over."

"So, that's, what, another twelve, fifteen hours?"

Casey checked his watch. It was nearing nine, and the conference was officially over at noon the next day. "Yeah."

"Has anyone checked her car?"

"Parker checks every couple hours. It's not been touched." Casey stood, walking out of the living room, into his room.

Ellie glanced over, but was soon back to checking channels.

He continued: "Her car isn't necessarily a target. He wouldn't cut the break line or wire it to explode. He doesn't want her dead. He wants her alive."

"All of the agents there are in place?"

He'd checked in with them twenty minutes before. Eddington was holed up in Ellie's old room on the tenth floor. Parker was still on-duty as a valet, watching the exterior and the parking garage. Another agent, Matt Collins, was manning the front desk as a night clerk. "Yeah."

"I dunno, Casey, maybe he's figuring out that it's too much trouble for what they're paying him. Maybe the bombing was his last-ditch effort?" Even as she said it, she realized the information she'd gotten from Rebecca Waters had rendered that idea impossible. She could still hope, couldn't she?

"I don't think so," he said, shaking his head.

"When do you think he'll make his next move?"

He sighed, looking at Ellie through the open door. "My money's on tonight."

* * *

Tate kept his head down and away from the cameras as much as possible. He wandered around, checking the heating and air conditioning units on the lower floors first, in the empty conference and ballrooms. There was no need to go directly to the top, to tip off whomever might be watching that he was the person they were looking for.

He looked official, carrying his toolbox and a clipboard with a fake work order. He even went so far as to knock on room doors, asking a few questions about the temperature stability and output volumes.

By the time he reached the sixth floor, he assumed he was home free, as no one from the hotel had stopped him. Bypassing the rest of the floors, he went directly to the nineteenth, the one below the penthouse suite. He slid his key into a random room lock, determining the encryption to let himself in.

He entered with his gun drawn, ready to kill anyone who might be staying in the room. It was, however, empty for the moment. Someone was staying there and would be back eventually. There was an open suitcase on the table, a laptop on the nightstand, and various debris littering the other surfaces. He slid his gun back into its holster.

Setting down his toolbox, he slid a chair underneath the air vent in the ceiling. It was rather large, big enough for him to slip through. He unscrewed the covering, tossing it and the loose screws on the bed. He shed his jumpsuit, tossing it aside as well, revealing black cargo pants and a black tee shirt under body armor. He had two guns strapped to his hips, and plenty of extra clips in his pockets. He was going to kill that damned bodyguard once and for all, and take his leverage with him.

It would end that night.

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"Ellie!"

She looked up when she heard Casey call out to her. His voice sounded strange, different. She sat up slowly. "Yeah?"

He crossed to her quickly, guiding her towards the suite's kitchen. "Something's not right," he whispered to her.

Those three words made all the color drain from her face.


	8. Chapter 8

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Devon is worried sick about Ellie, but Ellie promises she's fine. Sarah's able to decode information from Tate's Ring phone and relays information to Casey, who realizes that she's been using the Intersect on the mission, against direct orders. Casey promises that Ellie will be safe through the end of the conference, and will continue to be protected once she's home, too. Tate has one shot left, and he's going to see his mission through.

* * *

He moved silently, slowly, through the ducts above the penthouse. At each room, he stopped, easing a fiber-optic camera into the vent in the ceiling, scoping out the place. One by one, he learned which rooms were empty. Ellie was still in the living room, lounging on the couch. She'd finally stopped on the old movie channel, watching Fred Astaire glide across the dance floor.

He found her bodyguard in another room, pacing like a caged animal, talking to someone. Only occasionally would he look to the living room, to his charge, lying blissfully unaware of what was about to happen next.

* * *

"All locations were empty?" Casey asked.

"I don't think I ran the algorithm wrong. Chuck programmed it," Sarah radioed.

He could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. "Get Eddington up here now. Pull Parker in, get Collins on the move, too. Something's wrong," he said before snapping his phone closed. "Ellie!"

She looked up when she heard Casey call out to her. His voice sounded strange, different. She sat up slowly. "Yeah?"

He crossed to her quickly, guiding her towards the suite's kitchen. "Something's not right," he whispered to her.

Those three words made all the color drain from her face.

"I need you to go with Agent Eddington when she gets here," he said. "She's going to take you to safety."

"J-John," she began, her fear causing her stutter, "what's going to happen?"

"You are going to be fine. I'm going to see to it," he promised her. He lifted his watch to his mouth. "Eddington, evacuation plan alpha."

Eddington's voice was clear in his ear. "Roger."

Ellie let Casey's words replay in her head. Evacuation plan? She was leaving the hotel? Without Casey? Without her bodyguard? Without the one person in San Francisco she trusted? Ellie grabbed onto his hand. "Can't you take me instead?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Go with Eddington," he told her calmly, firmly. He gently pulled his hand free of hers, as he started screwing the silencer into his handgun.

Ellie took a half-step back from him. He meant business.

* * *

Sarah watched as Agent Eddington pressed the button to call the elevator. Casey had to have some reason for putting all the agents into motion. On a different monitor, she started running back the footage, to see what she missed, to see what Casey had somehow discerned.

She spotted the maintenance man on the second floor. She hadn't thought much about him at the time. While it was seemingly late to get started on tinkering with a work order, the conference floor had only cleared out the hour before.

Fast-forwarding, she watched as the maintenance man made his way up to the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth floors, before entering the elevator and going straight to the nineteenth floor. How had she missed that? How had they all missed that?

* * *

Casey thought about grabbing his night-vision goggles and killing all the lights. His fear, however, was that Tate might've been wearing them in the air vents. Having crawled through his fair share of them, he knew they had a tendency to be dark.

He made sure the extended clip in his gun was full, and added a few spares to his pants pockets.

Ellie lingered in the kitchen, near the front door. She couldn't put Casey's mind-over-matter mantra to use, as that required some semblance of mental faculties, and she was having a hell of a time trying to remember to breathe at that moment.

She panicked, squeaking, when a very clear thump echoed throughout the suite, coming from her bedroom.

The door to her bedroom slammed open and Tate rolled into the living room.

Casey opened fire first, diving for the safety behind the couch.

Tate began shooting with abandon.

Ellie, having never heard so many gunshots in her life, ducked behind the kitchen island, covering her ears with her hands. Where was Eddington? Why wasn't she being evacuated?

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Dr. Woodcomb," taunted Tate.

Casey grunted, firing back.

* * *

Sarah watched it all from Castle, wishing she'd been there, wishing she could help her partner. Annoyed that the rest of the agents weren't up there yet, she activated the radio. "Shots fired. Backup needed _now_!"

Eddington, who'd been waiting on the elevator, rushed to the stairs, taking two and three at a time.

Parker and Collins had to do the same, but they were on the first floor. They'd never make it.

* * *

Ellie was able to clearly tell who was firing. Every time Tate fired off a round, she cringed, flinching. The sound was so loud, even with her hands pressed tightly against her ears to try to muffle it. Casey's shots, while silenced, were still jarring, but they didn't sound quite so bad. She was way too afraid, however, to even chance glancing over to see which one was closer to her, to see which one was winning.

With her eyes tightly closed, she could pretend it was Casey. She could pretend she was hiding against Devon's chest while he watched another one of those _stupid_ action movies. She could even pretend that she was listening to Chuck and Morgan play one of those dreadful games with all the simulated bloodshed.

She let out a scream when she heard a different kind of shot fired, when the front door slammed open. While Casey had said she'd be going with an Agent Eddington to safety, out of the penthouse, she couldn't be sure if the backup that had arrived was for them or for Tate. Again, she was too frightened to even consider looking. She tried to flatten herself against the floor, so no one would see her, so she could remain invisible to the chaos that reigned around her.

* * *

Casey glanced over when the front door to the suite opened, and Eddington barreled in, out of breath but with her gun drawn. She offered enough cover fire for Casey to get to a safer position, to have a better angle on Tate.

With the couch now clear, Tate crawled towards it, firing one gun towards Casey, who was standing just inside the bathroom, and firing the other at Eddington, who had tipped over the dining room table for cover.

Casey fired again, pulling the trigger on his last shot. Sliding back into the bathroom, he changed the clips as quickly as possible.

Tate seized the moment, staying low, and moving towards the kitchen. He fired at Eddington, keeping her pinned down where she couldn't shoot back. Tate assumed he had several more seconds before Casey would be rejoining the action. He knew that once he had Ellie as a human shield, neither of them would be shooting at him, and he'd have a better chance to walk out, free and clear.

Casey slammed the new clip into the gun, firing just once at Tate as he entered the kitchen. Having noticed Tate's armor, he shot at the man's knee.

Tate crumbled, crashing into the counter.

As Casey and Eddington moved towards him, Tate, even on the ground, fired wildly towards them both.

"Stand down, Tate," ordered Casey. "You know you've already lost."

Hearing Casey's commanding voice and, seemingly, a break in the gunfire, Ellie slowly lowered her hands from her ears.

"All my employers want is information on the Intersect," Tate said, trying to stand back up. "That's it. And your girl, here, she can--"

Casey's primary directive was to protect the Intersect and his identity at all cost. Even from Ellie. He set his jaw tightly, squeezing the trigger one last time.

* * *

Sarah sat down as Casey administered the final, killing blow. While there was no telling what Tate might or might not have said about the Intersect, it was probably for the best. Just as Tate fell to the ground, Parker and Collins arrived.

She watched as her partner's shoulders seemed to slump, but only for a half a second.

"I know you just made it up here, Collins, but we're going to need damage control at the front desk. More than a few people will have heard the shots. Castle, re-route all 911 calls you can. I want zero police presence." Collins bobbed his head, heaved a sigh, then headed back down the stairs. Casey continued: "Eddington, Parker, get this place cleaned up. Pack up the gear and bring it down to the rooms on the tenth floor. I'm taking Ellie out of here."

"Do I need to cancel the air evac?" Sarah asked.

Casey nodded.

For Ellie's sake, he also grabbed the tablecloth that had slid onto the floor and draped it over Tate's body.

He found her, curled up against the back of the island, as flat as she could be, with her hands covering her ears again, her eyes tightly closed. "Ellie..."

She didn't respond right away; he was afraid she might've gone into shock.

Reaching out, he placed a warm hand on her arm.

She panicked, but calmed when she saw the familiar gold and garnet ring. "John? John!" She took his hand, allowing him to help her up. He didn't seem to be covered in any blood; he didn't seem to have any gaping holes. "You're all right?"

He nodded. "C'mon, Ellie, we're going downstairs."

"Downstairs?"

"Back to the rooms on the tenth floor," he said, taking her by the elbow and guiding her out of the kitchen. He hoped to keep her talking, to keep her attention.

She saw the blood spatter on the front of the island, the very island she was hiding behind. She couldn't help but follow the trail, finding blood slowly seeping out from beneath the tablecloth. "J-John..." She stopped moving, frozen to the spot.

Casey physically had to move her. He had to pick her up and carry her out of the kitchen, out of the penthouse. Parker closed the door behind them.

Ellie was trembling when he set her back on the ground, on her own two feet.

Casey punched the button to call the elevator, willing it to move faster, not for the first time that weekend.

Ellie broke down, overwhelmed by the adrenaline, the fear, the pain and now the death from the long weekend. As she melted into gut-wrenching sobs, Casey, very reluctantly, pulled her into a hug.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Sarah arrived at the apartment complex in Echo Park. She'd fielded twenty 911 calls from the hotel and from cell phones triangulated to that position. She'd debriefed Beckman and watched the CIA team clean the penthouse and repair all damages. She'd seen Ellie break down in Casey's arms while waiting on the elevator.

She spent some time on counter-intelligence, crafting a story about Tate's death to get back to the Ring cell in the hopes of rendering the information about Ellie invalid. Only time would tell if it worked.

After the insanity of the mission, she craved a little bit of normalcy. She craved Chuck's apartment.

Chuck grinned when he opened the door, finding her there. "Hey, Sarah."

"Hey," she said. "Do you mind if I come in for a little while?"

"Only if you don't mind watching the second half of Tron. There's popcorn and chips, sodas and beer... And Devon and Morgan, of course."

Sarah's smile was genuine. "Sounds perfect."

"C'mon, let's grab you something to drink, huh?" he said, shepherding her to the kitchen. "What'll it be?"

"I could drink a beer," she admitted.

He nodded, digging through the fridge. "Did you find out anything about... what I asked?"

"It really was an accident."

Chuck looked relieved when he handed her the drink. "Oh, Sarah, that's awesome. Thank you, so much."

Sarah's smile dimmed ever so slightly at the lie, even more so as Chuck pulled her into a hug.

* * *

Ellie barely slept, even in the room on the tenth floor. After the first nightmare, she turned the lights on. After the second, she asked if they could leave the door open between the two adjacent rooms. After the third, Casey planted himself in the armchair in Ellie's room.

It didn't do much for either of them being able to get long stretches of sleep, but it did cut down on the times between cat naps.

After breakfast and showers, Ellie stood in the doorway, watching as Casey packed up the last of the surveillance equipment and his laptop. She leaned against the doorjamb. "Do you think it would be awful to skip the morning session and just go home?"

"I think that might be a good idea," Casey admitted.

"I'm just not sure I should be driving."

"I can drive if you'd like."

"Well, how did you get up here?"

"I flew," he said, zipping his backpack closed.

So, she rationed, he'd need a ride back home anyway. "But, you got as much sleep as I did, maybe less," she said, concerned.

"I'm a Marine; I can operate on less sleep."

She seemed to weigh that statement for a moment, along with their options. She held her car keys out to him, which he took.

"I need the watch, too, Ellie. And the earpiece."

She had kind of gotten used to them. Biting her lower lip, she removed the receiver. She took the watch off slower. She'd grown fond of the watch especially. Looking up at him, she placed the items in his open hand.

* * *

Ellie settled into the passenger seat of her car, watching out the window. She wondered if the conference would've been any different if she'd been able to leave L.A. when she'd wanted to, if she hadn't stopped for brunch with Devon. She wondered if it might've been worse, if she might've arrived at the hotel before Casey got there. She wondered if she might be sitting in some darkened room somewhere, chained to a chair, scared and alone, waiting on someone to rescue her.

Slowly, she glanced at Casey, who was singularly focused on the road in front of them. She still didn't understand why it was he was protecting her.

Out of the blue, something surfaced from the night before. "What's an intersect?"

Casey barely reacted. "What's a what?"

"The... the guy that died," she began, as diplomatically as she could, "he said something about an intersect. What was he talking about?"

He shrugged. "I don't know." Casey lied because it was easy, because it was what came naturally after decades as a spy. He lied because it was his orders, because she didn't need to know the truth. He glanced over at her. "Close your eyes, Ellie. Try to get some sleep."

* * *

Devon sat at the dining room table, working on the game plan for the day. "All right, so, Chuck, you're headed by the liquor store for red wine. Sarah, you're on dessert detail... And Morgan." He glanced at the bearded one.

"I'm telling you. My she digs my teriyaki surprise," Morgan said with a huff.

Devon was hesitant to use the former Benihana chef for Ellie's welcoming home dinner. "I'm thinking she really likes that Italian place," he said, looking to Chuck for backup. "Pasta, vino... chocolate cake. What could be better?"

Everyone froze, however, when they heard a key in the lock.

"She's not supposed to be home yet, is she?" Morgan asked, glancing towards he front door.

The door swung open, and Ellie wandered in, tugging her suitcase along behind her. She hadn't noticed the gathering in the dining room, still somewhat groggy from her nap in the car.

"Ellie!" Devon grinned, crossing towards her and scooping her up in a hug.

She was instantly awake, instantly on alert, realizing she'd been lax in her own personal safety. She was going to have to do better than that. "Hey," she said, wrapping her arms around Devon, smiling at the rest of the assembled group.

Once she released her husband, she reached back for her suitcase, which Devon grabbed. Ellie couldn't help but notice the movement across the courtyard, watching the retreating form of her bodyguard as he disappeared within his own apartment.

It was then she was bombarded with questions. "So, what was that explosion all about?" "Aren't you home early? We weren't expecting you yet..." "What all did you learn at the conference?"

"Slow down, everybody..." Ellie held up her hands. "There was something... There was something I didn't tell you guys," she said, looking very seriously at Devon and then Chuck. Sarah held her breath. "The first night... Devon, I told you there was a demonstration on stitches..."

"Yeah," he said slowly.

"I lied," she admitted.

Devon slowly dropped into the dining room chair.

Sarah wondered if Morgan needed to leave, now, in case the truth came out, in case the entire Bartowski clan was in on the big secret.

"What?" Devon asked, frowning.

"I was... there was an incident, where... where I was almost mugged," she said, not meeting her husband's eyes.

Sarah eased slightly, but she still wasn't sure where Ellie was going with the story.

"El, are you okay?" Chuck asked, reaching out to his sister.

"I'm fine," she assured him, smiling as he squeezed her shoulder. "I... A very nice doctor came to my rescue. His name was Luke."

Sarah's eyebrows drifted up her forehead.

"Luke St. John," Ellie said, leaning against the back of the couch.

"Honey, why didn't you tell us?" Devon asked.

"I didn't want to worry you. And then, after the explosion of all things, I was afraid you'd really think there was something going on, some diabolical plot," she said, offering a slight laugh. Without thinking, she reached for the watch, the watch that was no longer on her wrist. When she realized it wasn't there, she quickly put both hands in her pockets.

Sarah knew how poorly Devon lied and how sometimes Chuck couldn't keep the story together. She was amazed that Ellie was as adept as she was. The addition of St. John was a nice touch and she wondered if Casey was listening in.

"So, who was this doctor in shining scrubs?" Morgan asked.

"He was a military doctor, a Marine," Ellie said. "He stayed with me the rest of the conference, looked out for me. I think you guys would like him. He was a gentleman, a good guy."

"I'd love to thank him personally for looking out for my girl," Devon said.

Ellie hadn't quite expected that response. "I'll see if I can't find his contact information..."

"Maybe we can have him over for dinner sometime or something."

Ellie smiled, wondering what Devon would think if she answered truthfully, that he'd been over before for a meal, for several. Instead, she answered: "Maybe."

* * *

He stood in the kitchen, thinking about what might be good for dinner. Room service had rendered him spoiled and he thought seriously about hitting up a restaurant, but he didn't feel like going by himself. Perhaps it wasn't so much the room service as the company that he missed. He sighed, looking at the canned goods lining the counter, when his computer in the living room began speaking to him.

"Colonel?"

He turned, spotting General Diane Beckman on the screen. "Ma'am," he said, returning to his living room.

"I just finished your report," she said with a heavy sigh. "So, Chuck's sister now knows..."

"She knows about me," he admitted. "She has no idea about Bartowski or Walker, or even her husband."

"This is precisely the slippery slope I wanted to avoid."

"I'm well aware of that, ma'am. If you want to reassign me, I would understand. But, there is something I think you should consider before making any decisions."

"And what is that?" she asked.

"Ellie's smart. Caring. She's protective by nature, protective of Chuck. Now she knows what I do, that I'm watching the apartment, it'll serve to put her mind at ease and prevent her from asking too many questions."

Beckman sighed slightly. "What about the personal toll on the Bartowskis? At this point, Colonel, we need a flow chart to adequately describe who knows what."

"Chuck's a better agent because he's surrounded by his family," Casey began. "Given the nature of the new Intersect, there are several things I think we need to be wary of. The most important being not changing the status quo. He doesn't know Ellie knows about me, and he doesn't need to. He doesn't need to be removed from L.A. If we can prevent it, he doesn't need to have his surroundings altered by any Ring cells. You saw how belligerent he became when Woodcomb was in trouble, how protective he is of his family. In order to keep our Intersect working, we need to ensure that his family is protected."

"Which is why you asked for the watch for Eleanor?"

Casey nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Beckman sighed. Of course, he was right. Casey may have been assigned initially to suss out the situation with the Intersect, to take Chuck into custody, maybe even kill the kid, but it was his keen sense of perception that convinced her to keep him on as Chuck's NSA handler when the self-professed "nerd" had proven useful. John Casey was a methodical observer, one of her most trusted agents. "Allocation approved, Colonel."

* * *

Ellie wandered into the Buy More in her blue scrubs. While she'd just gotten off a shift and was eager to go home, she'd received a message from Casey to meet him there. She found him in housewares, showing off a toaster oven.

When he spotted her, however, he quickly excused himself and crossed towards her. "Can I interest you in our refrigerator sale today?" Casey asked, guiding her towards the larger appliances in the back, where it was quieter.

"I think I'm happy with my GE," she said, smiling a little.

Once they were safely away from other prying ears or eyes, Casey pulled a silver watch from his pocket.

She recognized it instantly as her watch, the one she'd given him back two days earlier. "John..."

He dropped it into her palm. "This one does not have the radio transmitter. However, if you press the button on the left side, there," he said, showing her, "twice, it'll activate the GPS, sending a signal that you're in trouble. There is no way for you to deactivate it, so if you press it twice by accident, be prepared for the cavalry."

"Okay," she said, sliding the watch on her wrist and fastening it.

"Also, if we determine that there's another threat against you, we can activate it remotely."

"How likely is it that you'll have to find me?"

"Honestly? Not very. But it's best to cover every precaution."

She nodded, looking up at him. "Thank you, John."

He merely shrugged. He watched, as she started to walk away, but had to stop her. "Hang on a second..." When she looked back at him, he crossed towards her, lowering her voice again. "Chuck told me about this doctor that saved you from some mugging over the weekend... a Luke St. John?"

A touch of pink took to her cheeks. "I had to come a little clean."

"Well, considering I haven't performed any miracles, perhaps you should've gone with Johnson."

"You saved my life. That's miraculous to me," she said. "I owe you."

"You owe me nothing," he told her. "See you around, Ellie."

She smiled softly and nodded. "See you around, John."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the epilogue:

Casey was quiet for a moment. "You're still upset about not being able to tell Devon and Chuck the whole truth, aren't you?"

"I hate keeping it from them. I hate that I want to talk to them about it, but I can't."


	9. Epilogue

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Also... very special thank you to everyone who has subscribed, reviewed, and read my little tale. The Chuck online community is full of truly awesome people. :) For anyone interested, a sequel will be forthcoming, Chuck versus the False Alarm. Again, many, many heartfelt thanks!

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Casey kills Tate, the mercenary hired by the Ring to kidnap Ellie into leveraging "Agent Carmichael" into revealing information about the Intersect. Although Casey's cover is broken with Ellie, Ellie keeps his secret. Casey debriefs with the General, getting approval for continued low-level protection for Chuck's sister.

* * *

Devon followed his nose into the warm kitchen, where Ellie was looking critically at the cooling cookies on the rack on the marble-top counter. "Honey, something smells awesome!"

She glanced up as her husband wandered in. "Peanut butter cookies."

"Yeah? What's the occasion?"

She couldn't tell him they were for her bodyguard from San Francisco trip. "Well, it's just... y'know, John's aunt passed away and I thought it would be nice."

"When you were at your conference?"

She nodded.

Devon smiled as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet. "That's what I love about you most, babe. You've got the world's biggest heart."

She smiled a little but it was short-lived as she picked up one of the cookies. "It's a new recipe; I'm worried," she admitted. She broke the cookie in half, offering one side to Devon, who was filling his glass with ice and water from the refrigerator dispenser.

She'd done her best to remember Casey's instructions for his family's award-winning secret recipe. The cookies looked golden brown, and they'd offered a pleasant crisp when she'd broken it. She just wasn't sure what they were supposed to be like, if they were supposed to be softer or harder or completely different. As she chewed thoughtfully on hers, she realized they weren't bad. But, were they great? "Well?" she asked, looking at Devon.

When he popped his half into his mouth, he couldn't prevent a happy groan. "Babe, these are superb!"

Ellie beamed, then immediately set to work plating two dozen of the confections onto a tray before securing them in plastic wrap.

"Off to do cardio," Devon called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the living room.

Ellie glanced up when she heard the familiar sound of her husband on the stationary bike. She figured she had at least twenty minutes before he'd start to think something was amiss. Grabbing the plate of cookies, she crossed the courtyard to Casey's apartment, knocking politely.

* * *

Casey was in the middle of cleaning his SIG Sauer when he heard the knock at his door. His piece was currently in pieces. As he worked to click it all back into place, he called out: "Who is it?"

"It's Ellie," came the reply.

With his gun mostly back together, he left it on the coffee table. She knew his secret, so it didn't matter much if he left it in plain view. Crossing to the door, he opened it. "Hey."

She held up the plate. "I hope you don't mind. I tried your mother's recipe. I thought you might like some."

Casey was surprised, to say the least. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had them. "Thank you," he said as he accepted them. He was genuinely touched by the gesture.

She shrugged. "I thought I'd come by and take a look at your stitches, too. Make sure you're all healed up."

"Come on in," he said, opening the door wider. Ellie followed Casey into his apartment, through the living room and into the kitchen. He set the cookies on the counter, before grabbing another medical kit from the cabinet beneath the sink. He held it out to her. "Doc."

She smiled, accepting the box. While she scrubbed up, he pulled a chair from the kitchen table closer to the sink. As she was putting on the latex gloves, Casey removed his shirt and sat down on the chair backwards.

With nimble fingers, Ellie removed the bandage that covered the stitches and looked at the healing knife wound. "It's going to leave a scar."

It wasn't his first in the line of duty. "Occupational hazard."

"You'll have to tell me if I messed up the recipe somehow. I was... not quite myself... when you gave it to me," she said as she began to remove the stitches.

"They looked perfect," he said, glancing again at the plate she'd brought.

She could hear something in his voice. A wistfulness perhaps? "Does your mother know?"

"That I revealed her recipe? No. I meant what I said about it being a closely-guarded Casey family secret."

"No, I meant... I meant about your big secret."

He hesitated. It broke his heart to lie to his mother, but it was necessary. "She thinks I'm still just a regular Marine," he told her.

"Do you ever wish you could tell her?"

"She knows I serve my country. She knows I followed in my father's footsteps. What else does she need to know?"

"The whole truth?"

"The devil's in the details for you, huh?"

She offered a halfhearted shrug.

Casey was quiet for a moment. "You're still upset about not being able to tell Devon and Chuck the whole truth, aren't you?"

"I hate keeping it from them. I hate that I want to talk to them about it, but I can't."

"Why do you want to tell them?"

"Because, it's... It's quite possibly the biggest thing that's happened to me, outside of my parents leaving when Chuck and I were small, outside of my marriage to Devon... You killed someone, to protect me. That's... huge."

Casey wondered how she'd react if he told her he'd killed people at what should've been her big wedding. "I think most people would be kind of repulsed by that, rather than impressed."

"I just... sometimes I can't process it all. I keep thinking back to the trip, and the details just... I get dizzy."

"Stop thinking about the trip."

"That's the answer?" Ellie asked.

"Put it behind you. Forget all about it." As she continued to remove stitches and grew quiet, Casey reached out, stealing a cookie from the plate. It looked like the treats he remembered his mother making. When he bit into it, it tasted like them, too, the same texture and consistency. He closed his eyes, and, for a moment, he was an eight year old boy, sitting at his mother's kitchen table, watching as she baked batch after batch of cookies for the bake sale, to raise money to send care packages to his father and others in his unit who were overseas.

"How are they?"

"Just like my mother's," he admitted in awe. "Thank you, Ellie."

"It's barely a drop in the bucket, what I owe you."

He glanced over his shoulder at her as she finished pulling out the last stitch. "The way I see it, Ellie. I may have kept you safe in San Francisco, but you're keeping me safe here, indefinitely, by keeping my secret. I owe you."

She hadn't thought about it that way, about how she was now doing the protecting. "Well," she said, pulling the gloves off. "You do pay taxes."

John Casey cracked a big, warm, beautiful Lucas-Casey-esque grin.

* * *

End.

Hey, I'm getting pretty good at this spy stuff. I think I can see some intel on the next story from here.

Chuck versus the False Alarm--Every time a GPS tracker is activated--whether intentional or not--Casey has to manually turn it off. Check the profile for link.


End file.
